


The Black Handed

by HopeisNope4



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Confusion, Earn Your Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Gay, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Slash, Pirates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeisNope4/pseuds/HopeisNope4
Summary: James is very alone in the big bad world, searching for the closure to heal his broken heart. And now, at the bottom of a pirate ship, he's more alone than ever... Until a tall, dark man with darker intentions crosses his path. Little does he know that this hellish fate will change his life forever and that not all happy endings are the same shade of grey. Slowburn MxM





	1. Prologue

“James, come on. You know ye want to. Besides, it’s my day off.”   
The person being addressed tried closing the door on the older boy. He stopped it with a strong hand, tough from long hours of chopping logs.  
“Please, James? We even met some new lads down at the dock,”  
James still looked highly unamused.  
“Apparently they’re pirates, real ones.”  
This managed to catch the younger boy’s attention with much more gusto.   
“Yeah, James. And besides, how is Johnny here supposed to get on without ye?” Addam quipped mockingly.   
John smacked him lightly and glared,  
“Shut up ye bloody pillock!”   
James seceded if only to interrupt their fighting,  
“Fine! I’ll go… Just let me tell Beth-“   
John moaned disparagingly,  
“-It won't take a minute.” 

With that, James disappeared into the house. John and Addam shared a glance. John was obviously not pleased, especially knowing he was being waited on.   
“What’s got your breeches in a twist? Ye really don’t like Beth all that much?”   
John shook his head,  
“Nah mate, Beth is a nice enough miss… It’s her rules I don’t much care for.”   
“Ahh. I got you,”  
Addam agreed,  
“I have to admit though, I really like when she gives us cakes. Them things are tasty.”   
John rolled his eyes. 

It was a moment later that a woman reopened the door, looking between the two suspiciously. It was quiet for a moment before she spoke in a warning tone,   
“If I hear anything about you hoodlums getting James into mischief, we’re gonna have a mighty fine tuff. You hear me?”   
The teenagers looked between themselves again. They nodded with slight hesitancy. Because despite both of them being taller than her, Beth was an intimidating woman. She watched diligently as James made his way around her and ran off with the other two boys.   
She worried about the three of them. It was her nature. 

At the edge of town, they came to a dirt road, all too familiar. John spoke to James with a contented tone now that they were away from adult supervision,  
“I don’t know if you believe me but those boys, I do mean it when I say they’re pirates.”  
James looked up with skepticism, but the wishfulness in the back of his mind kept him from speaking any kind of negation. Meeting real pirates. Could it get any more exciting?

“So don’t find yourself being queer alright? I told them we were real posh lads, yeah?”  
James blinked, shooting him a look of disdain. He often found himself looking at John in this way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him per say. In fact, they were best friends and would have each claimed so in a heartbeat. It was simply that he didn’t like the way John did things. He didn’t like the way he lied about the last time he had been fed so Martha at the inn would ration him more food. He didn’t like that he lied about being 18 so the bartender would give him rum, even if he looked mature enough to get away with it. And he really didn’t like the way John bossed him around like an adult.   
He was 14 now, not some child. He was growing and could run much farther than he was able to a few months prior. And maybe he wasn’t as large as Addam at the ripe age of 16 (who in fact was beginning to grow a nice set of whiskers) but he was still growing. And he was sure he would be just as tall in no time, at least when he had that many years on him.   
But he didn’t say anything in response. It would have been a waste of time arguing about it and he was terribly curious to see these self-proclaimed “pirates” for himself. 

And as it turned out, they honestly seemed that way. James was almost completely convinced the second he saw them. Not that he had seen a real pirate before, but they certainly fit the profile of how he imagined them to be. Although the oldest of them could be no more than 18, they all looked rugged, worn and experienced compared to the others. There were three of them along with a very young lad James had never seen and was likely 11 or 12.   
This boy’s dress also showed that he was obviously not of the sea fairing kind. But the others were. Their ragged clothes and even more ragged accents made it clear they were far from native. 

“Oi blokes! Sorry for the wait. Jamie here was taking his sweet time.”   
Jamie. He hated when John called him that.   
“Aye. But it ain’t like we’ve got better to do. ‘Ave we, Birdy?”  
The boy who spoke was mean looking. His hair was ratty, long, and a dark red color. And the other boy he spoke to was just as grimy. Only he was smaller, probably the same age as James.   
“Just been toyin’ with this here rapscallion,”  
He gestured to the youngest boy who was sitting in the dirt, looking up from where he was, seeming less than content.   
“Lad’s never been fishin’.”  
The newcomers all gave him an odd look. Even James had been fishing. Their eyes seemed strangely filled with semi-contempt over his ignorance towards such a boyish activity. They pestered him about it, asking why his father didn’t love him enough to at least fulfill that responsibility. James, who simply wasn’t the kind, kept his mouth shut about it knowing how embarrassed the boy likely was. James didn’t know how to swim and knew they would have given him the same amount of grief. So he didn’t say anything out loud. Keeping his mouth shut however when he had something he thought important to say was very difficult for him. Often times it got him in trouble, but he didn’t mind.   
“Here,” Birdy spoke with a sarcastic tone and chucked a shilling at him. The young boy flinched as it hit the side of his face and fell absentmindedly into the grass, “buy yerself a shitey pole before ye even try talkin’ teh our mate like some big wig.”   
“If you do, go out when it’s raining. They bite better.”  
The group turned their heads away from the young book and directed their looks at James. It seemed they were surprised that he had any room to talk. Birdy spoke to him in a skeptical tone, implying his distaste,   
“Now why would ye know anything about that?”  
James swallowed the lump that instantly grew in his throat,  
“I read it… In a book.”

It was a moment before anyone made a sound. It was the redheaded “pirate” boy who snorted an indecent laugh that broke the silence. His cracked lips revealed the yellow set of incisors that were prominently larger than most would have considered normal. He actually looked quite scary, James thought.   
“Looks like we got a bit of a fairy tagging along, mates.”  
“Alright Teeth, shut yer hole,”  
Birdy growled at the ginger,  
“Ye aren’t even smart enough to know how to read. Now, we got until sunset to hang around with you lot. What do ye say we play a game?”  
His response a wasn’t the one he had wanted.   
“Are you blokes really pirates? You sail on the sea and rob people?”   
James didn’t know why he chose that moment to ask, especially after already being shot down by "Teeth". John looked ready to smack him. He supposed that it was compulsive, brought on by his nervousness. The one he assumably addressed cocked an eyebrow and looked down at him. Birdy was spoken over by a deeper voice, one that came from the oldest of them.   
“Aye, lad. That be certain.”

Until now the young man hadn’t spoken a word. He watched with harsh eyes that made James extremely uncomfortable. And what was a fairy? Like the little people?   
The pirate who had been called Birdy spoke his thoughts again,  
“Oh, Let’s play the tag game!”  
Teeth nodded in approval,  
“Mighty fine idea, lad. I reckon you dogs know the tag game?”  
They nodded assuringly.   
“Right. I nominate myself as the first chaser. Come back to this here tree and wait if ye get out. Any complaints? Good. I’ll count to 15,”  
“Are ye sure ye can’t count any higher?”  
“Shut up, Birdy! Alright… 1… 2…” 

James ran. 

He stumbled backward, at first but he managed to find his footing. Then he moved as fast as his small feet would carry him. And he was fast… or at least he felt like his speed was fairly impressive. He smiled, inwardly, letting the pride wash over him.  
James dashed through the forest, weaving in and between trees. He almost tripped again, this time over a bush. He settled for hiding behind it and once there, he allowed himself to breathe. That was when he realized how hard it was to see in the depths of the trees. Spots of light scattered the ground here and there, but the places the sun could not reach were actually quite scary…  
He decided he didn’t want to hide behind the bush anymore.  
Not because he was scared or anything.  
Then, just as he was about to move, there was the crack of a stick. His head swung around, searching the area behind him. Nothing. No dark figures, no movement, no monsters. He was safe.

Then he heard it again and he bristled.

This time, it wasn’t just a crack. It was followed by a rush of rustling movement that broke through the brush. It was a fleet body, barreling towards him from behind, far too quickly. And James' heart raced at the sound. His body stiffened and he found himself unable to control his limbs. The sheer concentration of adrenaline was over his head and it was past his ability to comprehend what was happening. So much that he felt a certain disconnect from his body as he was sent tumbling down towards the ground. He skidded with a thud, his weight not significant enough though to make a large sound.   
James pushed his torso up with an arm that shook from heavy breath. His lungs felt heavy. His eyes, too. He thought he was going to cry and a moment later he did. 

Meanwhile, the force that had rammed into him stood light and apathetic to whatever little James might have been experiencing. In fact, the older boy laughed in a snarly way that made the young man cry all the harder. He felt pathetic. His watery gaze looked up at the blurry figure, a kind of heat growing in his gut. The laughing continued. Teeth leaned over, his arm holding his gut. And when he had gotten his fill of masochistic joy, he met James disquieted look with lidded eyes. There was an aura of almost... Pride.   
“What’s wrong, mate? What did that lad call you... Jamie, was it?”  
He looked away, his face becoming red and damp.   
“Gave ye quite a scare did I? Yer hands, do they hurt?”  
James looked down at his palms. They were scraped. He said nothing but stared at them angrily as Teeth spoke,  
“Head back now, ye got it? Yer out.”  
He wanted to scream ‘I know!’ but a little voice in the back of his mind said to stay quiet. This wasn’t a person worth talking back to. It frustrated him all the more. 

So he staggered off, face red and ashamed. James pride had taken a shot to the heart. And although the chase was over, although he had been defeated, he still ran. Even though it was over, the game still felt too real, too alive in his veins. He used what was left inside of him to propel his legs forward at the speed he had originally thought too great to be caught. But he was wrong. What if he was the first to go? Johnny would be over the hills with disgrace.   
He couldn’t go back. So he didn’t. He swerved off of the path that led back to the cherry tree on the hill. Instead, he ran toward the lake.   
He had been there before, many times with his friends, searching the shore for hidden treasures. To be quite frank, he wasn’t sure it even was a lake. That was just what they had always called it, “the lake”. More closely, an oversized pond. But it was deeper than a pond. It was deep enough in fact that John, Byron, and Addam all swam there during the sweltering heat of July and occasionally August if harvest didn’t intervene. But he never swam. He was never taught how. So he sat on the dock as he always did, watching nothing and everything all at once. He tried to distract himself from the compulsive thoughts that ran continuously back to Teeth. Those nasty, gleaming eyes.   
He forced his mind in another direction. 

James looked out over the trees of the horizon, scanning for nothing. It wasn’t anything special. Just a lake. But something about it always drew him in, the way its soft pulsing waves drew over the bank, nipped at his ankles, gathered around the support poles of the dock. But there seemed to be something beneath the surface, strange and mysterious. A little dark perhaps, but it drew him in none the less. He stared down at the space directly beneath him. The water may have been calm, smooth, but it was not clear. The bottom was out of the reach of his eyes. 

It was very peaceful here. Gentle sloshing, birds arguing in the trees, wind whipping the branches. It was a quiet sound that soothed his nerves. Then he heard footsteps. Worn booted feet over solid earth. It was a sound he found himself dreading. He looked over his shoulder.   
“Jamie!” An unwanted voice called out to him. He retorted,  
“My name isn’t Jamie. It’s James.” He spat his words in a way that Birdy definitely noticed. He was following around Teeth now. They hunted in a pack. Barbaric.  
“Now, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re hacked off, mate!”   
James fists clenched and he turned his head back towards the water. He tried to ignore them.   
“Yer supposed to be back at the tree. Hey! I’m talkin’ to ye!”   
The statement served to aggravate him more. But he stayed quiet, elbows rested on knees and head rested in hands. But the silence was loud to the pirate. He wasn’t used to being ignored. And he really didn’t like it.   
“Ey! Ye listen to me mate, I’ll tear yer teh bits!”   
No response. Teeth let out a sharp breath.   
“Ye Barmy RAT!”   
The pirate marched forward. Lifting his leg, the bottom of his boot met the small of James’ back.

He felt his body jerk forward, his mind present but somehow disconnected from his body. Similar to the last time Teeth had pushed him. Because of this, he was unable to stop it, the plane of glassy water that rushed toward him. “Oh,” he thought to himself. If it came any closer he would breach the surface. And he did.  
The water pooled over his head, cool and quiet. He wanted to scream. But if he did so the water would enter his lungs. That darkness he had noted before, earlier on, it was going to swallow him whole. He writhed at the thought of being devoured by something that wasn’t even alive. Humiliating.   
His arms flailed, ironically enough sending him farther down rather than up. The bottom, where was the bottom? Did it ever end? He felt with his feet. He could not swim.

No. It never ended. This was it. This was the end. “No,” He thought to himself once more, “But it had only just begun...”

James' eyes burned. His lungs too, more than even when he ran. More than a sharp kick to the ribs. More than ever in all his short life. He knew he needed to move, to do something. But he was unsure and quite scared. James could feel his mind fading quickly. He shook his head until he felt dizzy. And suddenly he felt weak. Very weak and quite sleepy. Perhaps if he just closed his eyes? It would only be a moment.


	2. Chapter 1

In Britain, there was a grand city. And this city was filled with people. The population was ever growing. Being next to the sea, trade was good. Hearts were high despite dirty streets and rough living conditions. It was mid-May. This meant cool nights and mild days filled with running children, the barking of dogs, and men calling out in the streets to alert people that they possessed the freshest goods. Liverpool was a sight to behold. 

That morning had been a typical one on the port. Many men bustled about here and there. Boys with strong arms and hearty spirits carried sacks of potatoes, boxes of fine wine and other spirits, as well as more delicate things they had been paid heavily to transport. Things like fine jewels and precious metals, pottery, and paintings slaved over meticulously over the course of months. They were all vivaciously protected here, packed away and patroned by captains who were paid handsome sums to do so. Coffee and spices are brought in while cloth and grain went out. Along with hundreds of other things, sure truly in diversity. 

Many of these ships were large freights carrying things in bulking masses. And many were not. Some ships were more simple and specialty. One of these were destined to meet a special misfortune. Unfortunate in fact as it was a jolly ship full of decent men with now heavier pockets. The crew held great loyalties to those with items kept aboard. They were hearty creatures, with much more respectable natures. Tall, muscular, and determined to make an honest living despite how against the odds this seemed. 

Soon to be among these beastly people was a young man who stuck out as somewhat of a sore thumb. He wasn’t the strongest person aboard by any stretch of the imagination. His shoulders, however broad, were not heavily muscled. He was of the most basic build and had slowly built up his true strength. At the ripe age of 20, This young man had managed to reach 5 feet and 9 inches that he bore proudly. His fair hair and green irises made him a handsome boy barely transitioned into a man. But his face was bare, not even fuzz on his chin. Flushed cheeks and a wide-eyed look, made him look young. Much younger than he wished. This vexed him on the occasion. But he knew this day would come when he would be treated in a way he had earned. Just not today.

For today was the day that his life changed forever, perhaps even resulting in some good. Even if it wouldn’t appear evident until the bitter end of his story. 

Waking up in the morning he analyzed what was to come and the stirring of anxious energy building in his gut. He dressed accordingly, packed his final assortment of necessities, and made his way downstairs to meet his family. Slices of fresh bread and a cooked egg were set in front of him. The young man would probably have preferred to go without, but he knew he wouldn’t get away with it. He did bicker though, being it a part of his nature to question. It wasn’t as if he was going to be expanding vast amounts of energy as he wasn’t boarding the ship to work. Elizabeth, his mother, rolled her eyes per usual while Edward watched them argue listlessly. Beth, as the avid woman demanded to be called, was simply his caretaker. Fortunately for him, she was a wonderful creature. Passionate, warm, strict at the necessary times, and anything else you can suppose a mother should be. She watched James grow from a scrawny street urchin to a respectable young boy, and now a young man. So of course feeding him seemed absolutely paramount. 

“I am an adult! I am not of the appropriate age for you to shove food down my throat any longer!” 

“James Faulkner, this is my last request before you depart. Would you really deny me such? Compromising my health? You insolent child!”

James let out a frustrated breath holding back an array of insults. He clenched his teeth and breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Fine! I’ll eat your stupid egg.”

He gave in for her sake. James had a soft heart. It was quiet aside from the clinking of silverware on plates. 

“Is uncle Andrew coming to see me off?”

His father shook his head and he shifted in disappointment, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“He is a busy man, James.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. 

James had a soft heart and even softer hands. They were not callous as the other men aboard the ship he would sail on. They were soft but strong, and meticulous. Most of his days were spent in Edward’s store, selling, bartering, and convincing young women that they had stumbled upon the finest of fashion. 

And there were many other activities he would have been perfectly satisfied with. But none compared to spending the say with his uncle in Manchester. And his house was positively filled with books of all kinds. Perhaps it was how Andrew taught him to read that really made him seem golden. His vocabulary was what he had. Words were powerful, and the more he knew the more powerful he became... At least in his mind, he would. James uncle was a man of an academic nature, a trait James so prized in him that became a desire of his own. The man was a beacon of inspiration. Now as for how fondly this man looked to James was another story entirely. 

But James continued to love the stories his uncle had given him. He would have written such stories himself if such an occupation were practical (and in his eyes, it most certainly was not). So maybe it was better that Beth had forced him to orient himself with work, lest he was to become socially reclusive. Normally this life the Faulkner’s had given him was his general focus. But now his gaze was pressed elsewhere, which is where this story begins.

He finished his food quickly so that they could head toward the docks. His objective was Belfast, Dublin, everything in between and a voyage home, all in order to sell the jewelry of Edward’s store. Nothing seemed to be standing in the way of such. And the only dangers he faced were those of his own mind. In this case, the water was his only notable fear which is what made his travel ironic. 

You see, the mind does strange things with memories. It fills one with occurrences that link fear of circumstances to fear of concepts themselves. Perhaps something had happened to him in the days of his youth. The water reminded him of a dream long ago that now orchestrated his deep seeded apprehension. So now, crossing bridges, and walking over docks, riding in ships to alien lands seemed terrifying, dangerous. In many ways it was. All that can be known is the simple paradox of his journey being centered around his most irrational fear. Of course, he thought, this was just his luck. 

Either way, he boarded the boat. He hugged his mother goodbye and shook the hand of Edward. Beth handed him a small gift, something heavy and small wrapped in a delicate hankie. He could have backed out then. He didn’t. James was lead to a very small room with a simple hammock and a chest for his meager supplies. It wasn’t as if he needed anything more. He was a man of simple pleasures as it was. So here he tried to drown himself in sleep, forgetting the miles of danger ahead. 

 

 

The Charlotte was a meager thing. It rocked in the waves of the early morning that glinted with the rosy light of the sunrise. The far away orb peaked over the rolling waves, an orange tongue reaching up and piercing the light grey sky. The vessel dipped and swayed over the vast lifeless surrounding. However, this barrenness did not last. Soon enough, the men aboard had stirred, one after another starting in a frenzy of work. Here and there, they moved to their posts, throwing ropes, preparing their ship for a continued voyage. With the right winds, hard work, and a little luck, they would arrive by the next morning. It was a truly wonderful little ship, the sprawling liveliness of it all. The anchor was lifted from its position at the bottom of the sea and allowed the free movement of the current to drag them forward. As the main mast was pulled to full capacity, they were pulled forward by a fresh summer breeze. 

The jerk of the ship not only swayed this boat, however. The men were jolted, bottles rolled, and the hammocks below deck rocked. In fact, a certain hammock in a back room was rocked and tilted just enough, to just the right angle that the form sleeping within it fell to the ground. He was knocked against the wooden floor and his head pounded. James groaned as he pushed himself off of the cabin floor. He struggled to his feet and tenderly clutched his aching head. He wiped his face. God, was this really how he would wake up for the third time in a row? No matter. He was awake nonetheless. What best to do about it? On a typical morning, he was graciously awoken by Beth. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, it was rather childish, but it was something that he had taken advantage of until now. 

He was quite pathetic in his own mind. 

James searched his bag for respectable attire. He pulled on his shoes and slicked his hair back, knowing it probably wouldn’t last that long. He detested the curls. James went to reach for the handle of the door when he stopped. How could he have forgotten? He felt into the pockets of his jacket. Feeling around, he found the necklace Beth had given to him before his parting. Once he had border the Charlotte his curiosity got the better him and he had unwrapped the precious gift. It was a silver chain capped off with a simple pendant embed with a small opal. It was a simple thing, however, its value to him was astronomical. It was as if some kind of link between the two of them was placed. It filled him with warmth knowing that one day he might be able to return to his home. 

James grabbed the door handle once again, this time with sureness, and firmly pulled it open. The coming brightness of the outside stung his eyes for a moment as he adjusted. The acclamation didn’t take too long since the morning made it still dim. He made his way towards the upper deck to find the man in charge of this small crew. There were perhaps say 20 men aboard so it wasn’t as if he were searching for a man in charge of a militia of boats or anything of the sort. He was an easy bloke to get a hold of and even easier to speak to. The only difficulty he experienced was being understood through the thickness of his rugged accent. The captain grabbed James by the shoulder as he approached. James flinched at the unfamiliar touch. 

“Mornin', lad! How was yer night o' rest??”

“Marvelous.”

James thought about the question he had been proposed with. He had answered simply with the first polite thing that came to mind, as occurred naturally. But it lingered for a moment. He had discovered how quiet the ship was at night. This had been his favorite part so far concerning his adventure. The silence was something he had only managed to capture in the deeper parts of the wilderness, only when traveling alone. The soft ruffle of the leaves rustling high above was all there was to disrupt this. But out on the ocean, these small crinkled noises where substituted with more sweeping ones. The swoosh of wind over churning waves that were pile driven into the side of their vessel. The sloshing of this boat as it rocked up and down, returning the energy whence it came. 

He was left to his own devices at night, allowed to plunge into his own thoughts like he hadn’t been able for a long time. Once the sun had settled, he went outside to observe this peaceful nature. Seeking the quiet, he discovered a distraction significantly more magnificent. He was captivated by the pinpoints of light that displayed from the heavens. He had obviously seen stars before. It wasn’t as if he lived underneath the ground or in a cave. It was the simply factor of where he lived that denied him such a measure of beauty. In the recent years, smokestacks had infiltrated their fair city. It polluted the sky and blotted the brightness. But not here. Here it was bright, painted in a milky and flowing way. He had slowly fallen in love with the stars over the years, but this was like no sight he had ever recalled seeing. His heart had pounded in his ears as he made his way towards the corner of the bow. There he had sat with a small notebook and a charcoal for many hours writing down his observations. His imagination pulled all of his thoughts from him and pushed them onto page after page. 

So how had his night been? Was wonderful truly a lie? Most definitely not. 

“Never have I slept a wink better.”

The man beside him laughed a laugh that was characteristic of one his age. It was deep and boisterous.

“Good to hear ye're enjoying yer stay. 

That morning was tedious to James. He had never had such a large portion of free time on his hands. He returned to his cabin at some point to gather a couple of books that might provide him with amusement for the afternoon. Majority of these were ones he had already read. He loved them all the same. He had peeled through three of them by the time the night meal had rolled around, making notes of his thoughts in a small journal. It was the kind of life he had imagined in a dream. Resting in a quiet place with an entertaining story and a rested soul. He treated it as somewhat of a gift. It needed thanks and respect so he didn’t even consider taking it for granted. He embraced it with all he had and refused to complain. There was indeed plenty he could have complained about, but these were continually outweighed. Oh, what amity. 

But the peace was fleeting. It always was. 

 

 

James had worried somewhere in the back of his mind that something might happen to their boat. It was just an inkling of paranoia but his gut spoke to him about those sorts of things. Something would happen in the night. But this something would not simply happen due to that it was night. It would because he knew a night that is dark with the absence of light is nothing compared to one dark with the malevolent intentions of man. The creatures below the surface of the earth were only outdone by those above. This knowledge made trust… difficult. 

Then his night came for him. James had been startled by a warning call from above deck. So naturally, he rushed to the door to view what had happened. Perhaps the boat was sinking. Then the smell of smoke as it burnt the inside of his nose. Smoke? But a boat didn’t smoke when sank in the water. So a fire. He opened the door and ran up the stairs. And indeed it was a fire. The most fire he had ever seen. What he saw as a scene of nightmares as most would never see in all of their lives. Screams. The noise of crackling fire as a beam from the foremast flew to the deck with a thud and the splinter of wood. His heart stopping and his chest turning cold as James was met with a pair of angry eyes. A beastly pair of eyes that made him realize: His adventure was being crushed beneath the foot of a pirate. It was a terrifying man with a broad stance and a cold glare. His people had overrun them in the night and now he had nothing to achieve. He had no purpose. All was gone. All was in vain. 

Fear pricked him in the forefront of his mind and the beating of his heart pulsed in an uneven sort of way. His blood ran cold through him. He looked over at the ship that came to port beside them. It was a magnificent thing, beautifully kept over the years and adorning a black flag with a red eye embroidered into the center of its blackness. The figure pulling him obstructed his view. It was a tall man who had drug him out of his peaceful rest to the chaos at present. He was thrown to the ground, his face slamming into the boards. Splinters stabbed into the soft fleshiness of his cheek. The scraping against the roughness peeled his skin and caused it to bleed. Not long after, the hide leather of a shoe smacked into the side of his head, causing his consciousness to flicker. A barrel was tipped beside him spilling dead fish everywhere. The smell became pungent and repulsive to the point that he almost started choking, gagging in the back of his dry throat. Then something else caught his flickering eyes. 

You see when a man is approached with the ultimatum of “your possessions or your life” there is typically no question of which will be picked. The only kind of man who would choose otherwise was one with a heart possessed by greed. And these were typically the pirates themselves. Fortunately, this was a ship of fine men with a wish only for peace. The hands of a small group soon found a place on the deck. Their insinuated white flags were caught not only by the pirates but the other men aboard. The violence didn’t last long. Soon the remainder of the men began raising their hands, ending their willingness to fight this monstrosity. This group grew to all crew members, excluding those deceased. They had gathered in surrender. No more suffering, no need for more bloodshed. Lives were not worth one shipment of cargo. 

One voyage was not worth wives with children and livestock and taxes to pay for these families. The men knew this. It was not out of self-preservation alone. 

James pressed his palms against the floorboards and attempted to balance on two-week legs. He needed to join his men and acknowledge the submission. He moved from crouching to standing but soon found himself being pulled backward. A hand gripped the back of his coat and pulled him away from the other men, dragging on his heels. The voice of this hand spoke. It was wretched with little remorse and little philanthropic comprehension of his actions. 

"Cap’n,"

A tall figure standing away from the crowd turned a dark gaze.

"Aye?"

"This here lad. He ain't like th' others. He reads like some rich ole strumpet! Th' wee ratbag. Dresses like he’s minted."

The annoying creature holding James had bent and picked up the book the boy had been reading casually beforehand. The Adventures of Roderick Random was scrawled and painted into the leather cover. 

The captain smirked with a shit-eating grin when it was handed to him. An idea overcame him. In Nicolaus’ mind, this was an opportunity to find wealth in an unlikely way. This boy, he was educated. He was smart and capable. His hands were soft and he was intellectually sound. Reach was far from stupid. He knew that this boy was likely very wealthy... That or he was a pansy. He was likely important in some way, belonging to a rich family sending him on a fully paid vacation. If he could rip it out of the boy where his family originated, they could ransom him for a pretty penny. Reach felt that he could easily turn it to his advantage. It was an anomaly. Indeed, he would be kept. 

"Throw him in the brig! And don't roughhouse with the lad an ounce more, I want 'im alive n’ well." 

And suddenly, chaos. The crew who previously had succumbed to these borderline acceptable terms now erupted into a furious anger, plenteous in threats and yells of alarm as the family realized he was being stolen. He would be ripped from their ranks and sent into the most hellish places ever convened by man. His morrow? Over. He no longer possessed any kind of future, and what little he may be able to scrape together looked intolerably grim. Perhaps it was acceptable to get away with their lives, only their material possessions stolen from them. But this boy that they had pledged to deliver? He was not some item of value or document of profit. He was a human being. 

They made a scene. The captain didn’t like this. James could only watch in horror as the captain's second mate was hoisted up and tied firmly to the mast. The pirates took turns picking parts of his body to slice off. And just as a taller one began breaking his fingers and cut them off at the joint, the second mate was overcome with nausea. 

He became unconscious in his shock, only to be awakened by a rough smack to the back of the head. The captain called from below, begging and pleading for the men to take him instead. He watched in agony as the tortured man’s shirt was cut from his body. The sound was glorious to the men initiating this pain. His screams raged as hot pain shot through his entire body. He was certain any moment would be his last as fluid began to flow from him. Into the soft flesh of his stomach, a thin slice had been removed from his abdomen. The chunk of flesh was tossed casually into the sea for any beasts lurking below, following the pungent smell of blood. One of the men walked forward and stuck a dirty hand into the soft flesh of his chest cavity. This is when the screaming became unearthly. It was the most pain-filled sound he had ever encountered, one after another growing vastly more desperate. And then, it slowed. It became simple wheezes. And just as he began pulling the intestines from within the body to the external world, the weary soul descended to heaven. And with him, a sincere apology from the lord for such a gruesome death. His corpse was dragged to the edge of the vessel and hung by a rope over the side. 

He was held as a fine example of what happens when one messes with a pirate. It was a true illustration as to the infliction these murderous heathens were capable of. The atrocities they were capable of committing were like nothing the mind of a typical man could ever comprehend. 

Before he had the chance to see another man harmed, James was carried off. He was thrown over the shoulder of the largest possible man and carried over a small wooden plank connecting the two ships. Down, deep into the dim, he lay. He spent the night fighting off any emotions that might show through as a sign of weakness. He knew that such would not be tolerated here. Such was not acceptable on the boat of a captain such as Reach the Ridiculed.

This was about the extent of what wasn’t acceptable aboard this boat. You see, pirates are rabid creatures. Filled with malice, greed, and more than an ounce of savagery, they weren’t exactly saints. James' heart tore a little that night. 

It was obviously bad that he would be forced to live in a rat-infested bilge that smelled like piss and rotting grime. It was a sorry situation. But this compared nothing to the realization that overtook his soul that night. It was like a poison flowing into his blood, delivering it straight into the mind. He became infiltrated by thoughts of his future... Or more so, lack thereof. He had now lost everything in his strange, difficult, but overall wonderful life. All of his memories pertaining to his friends now were without sustenance. Claire and John and Addam. Claire perhaps not as much as John, but she had still been there to listen to his troubles. John had been his closest friend, him and his scruffy little dog. Oh, but how it loved the both of them. And John was a strong man now, always up to something. And now he was gone.

James had possessed, if only for what felt like a fleeting moment, a lovely life that he had not dreamed of ever possessing. He had a home, a warm fire, food, and all of the people he could hope to cherish. Now they were gone, or more so, he was gone. There was no going back and he knew this. He had forced himself to skip grief itself and fall straight into apathetic nothingness. Even if there was pity within his heart, he did not dare flash it openly in fear of being seen. For if someone were to see, he would surely die. Safety was a convenience he no longer had acquired. 

So there he lay, a soul decomposing in the dark. His back ached, his shackles clicked against the floorboards as they shook in trembling hands. It was an uncontrollable shaking, one he was far too familiar with. He knew not why these happened and it terrified him more than anything. Beth had told him it was because of his broken heart.

“It means yer healing, little one. yer soul has a deep crack in it and now yer body is sewing it back up.”

He cried in protest, fighting the pain

“I know it hurts, darling, but it will be over soon.”

And in time it was. The shaking ceased. But this was not Liverpool. This was a monster ship stealing him over a gray ocean headed for the darkest depths of hell. So he let go. He imagined the soft touch of his safety. Alas, It was not so.


	3. Chapter 2

The man that had brought him down into the brig had told him to undress. Doing as told, he removed his tailcoat, waistcoat, undershirt and neckcloth. He sat to unlace his shoes when they were suddenly ripped from his feet. Then his stockings which were ripped in the process. James let out a small cry of unexpected surprise. He grit his teeth. Once they were finished, he was left with a pair of dirty, torn trousers flecked with spots of blood and the foul water from the fish barrels. Nothing else. Everything else was gone. His books were gone along with the small stow of belongings he had carried before. They were all charted and sorted into piles that would later be traded in for a handsome sum of pounds. But after this encounter, it became eerily quiet.

Time flew by James. It was as if he had continued to function at the same rate, but the world around him increased its velocity. The darkness was what really made this clear, although he did not sleep, it was as if in an instant, it was day again. Spots of searing sunlight shone through cracks in the boards that, if touched, could distract him from the freezing brig he was now trapped within. It was a sad thing, longing so desperately for warmth. 

It was two days before a single sign of human life reared its ugly head. A sound caught James attention. It was the creak of a wooden door opening. A pirate came into view from around the wall. His first not was that the man was quite ominous with the various scars that covered his torso. He seemed to be at least halfway through this third decade, with hallowed features and a mature gaze. Black eyes pierced into James for only a moment as he strolled on by. His attire consisted of brown pants tucked into noir boots and his shaggy hair was kept short, very unlike the other pirates, and it falls over from its part into his attractive face. 

In his left hand, he twirled a ring of keys and in his throat, hummed a tune that made not a lick of sense when heard aloud. Once he reached the back of the cabin, the pirate unlocked a cell filled with more boxes. Perhaps they were more valuable? After finding the one he had been searching for, he picked it up. Tucking the black container under his arm, he locked the door again. Before, he hadn't paid the captive any head. This time he stole a careful glance at the wary creature as he walked by. Unbeknownst to James, this look was all it took for an energy to be awakened, and the future to be sealed. The will of the fates had now been set in motion. And just like that, he was gone. A single gust on a windy day, away all at once. Perhaps he would see him again. 

Once noon had come and gone, a door was opened into the small cellar in which he had been trapped. The light of their lamp allowed him to view his surroundings better. He had been placed in an area in which they kept their material valuables. It was a vast variety of miscellaneous objects that they had collected over the years that they knew not what to do with or saved as bargaining pieces (as opposed to supplies such as food, blankets, gunpowder, etc.) Boxes and boxes towered beside him. The light captivated him, created by that of an oil lamp. Four pirates had made their way into the room. They spoke in ragged tones that alarmed his fright-filled mind. 

“Where be Larkey?!”

Voiced the most well dressed of them in a booming tone.

“Ye told me he was down here already. how am I supposed to get 'im to natter without the proper scally to beat it out of 'im? Don’t even think about telling me he’s a waste of time.”

“Captain, he wasn’t in the bunk. You know he likes his sleep. I just assumed-” 

“Well, you assumed wrong! Now,”

He turned his lamplit gaze towards James. Heavy eyes that burnt straight into his soul. This man had seen things, done things, awful things, and would continue to do these things that James would never be able to comprehend. His simple presence was a warning. But this didn’t matter to James. For what good is fear of death to a man who is internally dead? 

“Tell me, lad, from where do ye hale?”

Not a sound was shed. This did not please Captain Reach. He took a step forward and leaned down so his face was inches from James. His breath smelled of rot. 

“We can bring ye home. I’m sure yer mum misses ye.”

He remained silent, his head downcast. The captain counted in his head. Three, two, one. 

He didn’t have time for this. The hate-filled man released a blow against the side of his ribcage. James moaned in agony that soon subsided. 

“I’ll ask again. Where is yer family?”

Nothing. 

Another kick in the same vicinity. Irritation. A smack, hard against the back of the head. 

It wasn’t as if James had never been hit before. His face clenched momentarily before he forced himself to man up and take it. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t beg like some dog. There was more to his soul than self-preservation. They had taken everything from him. He would give not an ounce more. But his memories from long ago raced back to him, crawled into his heart and clawed at him. A drunken man with large hands grabbing him by the throat and throwing him to the ground, kicking him and telling him to leave or be killed. No. That was then and this is now. It was irrelevant and long ago. He dismissed the weak feeling that grew in the pit of his stomach. 

Another man entered the room. He was difficult to see as James vision was blurred at the time. His hair was dark and he apparently was important enough to distract his processing. The captain stopped his actions to great the intruder. 

“Nice of you to join us, Larkey. Tell me, what was so invigorating that you just had to refuse my invitation.”

So this was who they had been waiting on. The man in question chuckled,

“A true shame, when people leave ye in the dark while they go off frolicking.”

This was seemingly the wrong move as the captain glared daggers in his direction. It had apparently hit a tender spot that caused him irritation. Larkey responded again, this time in a more serious tone. 

“Roger and Riggor were in a bit of a tuft. Took the liberty of bringing it to a close.”

“Ahh. And who won, might I inquire?”

The captain asked, suddenly taking an interest, now knowing the other man wasn’t neglecting his duties.

“Roger, obviously. He’s a ruthless thing, I’ll give him that...”

The crew member trailed off suddenly noticing the broken figure lying on the floor. This was the one he had seen not three days before. He recalled that morning, storming into the captain's quarters. He demanded to know what had happened that night so invigorating that he was unable to recall taking a captive. He wanted to know exactly why, where, and when this had all occurred without his knowledge. How had he not been informed? You see, little to this pirates knowledge, the night previous, the crew had left him in a waisted stupor after a rather boisterous round of drinks in his favor. They had made a ruckus the previous night along the southern coasts, burning down home after house in their wake. Their frivolous merrymaking had come to a halt when one of the men spotted a small cargo ship off in the distance. All were called to arms, apart from him. His inebriation rendered him useless and so his mates had left him to sleep it off. 

Did he remember this? of course not. Had he bothered to ask? Why would he until cluing in on such? There was little to no sign of what had happened once he awoke. Besides, this week had been distracting. No matter, his only curiosity as of now was this boy. He wanted to know what had happened and more importantly why he had not been notified. The captain then explained the circumstances, Larkey. But Larkey didn’t seem to care and was abhorred at the thought of being left behind. Being a bitter mimsy, he played the guilt card passive aggressively ever since. 

“Now, after conforming to yer whims, here I am.. And here is this guest you neglected to notify me of. For shame.” 

The captain rolled tired eyes. The younger man’s gall had more than certainly aged him. 

“The only shame on this boat is that I’m not at liberty to maroon yer snotty ass.”

“Father rolls in his grave at such a threat.”

The Captain scoffed. He pointed a crooked finger down to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, how about I repay ye a condolence. This little worm here is all yours. Yer responsible for figuring his wits and such.”

He was interrupted,

“Ey, I got yee. Find the parents, find the pounds. But ye know it would be much easier to bid him off. He’s a soft one. We could still make a fine sum.”

Bid him off? As in selling him? The words stung James ears more harshly than the fresh bruises painting his back. He had been wondering over the last couple days what was to be done with him. It wasn’t a surprise that they would put it into consideration. They gave little heed to his individual freedom. The thought killed him nonetheless, belonging to another human that would be allowed to use him and abuse him for the rest of his days. How toxic. Waves of anxiety pulsed through his head. 

“Yeah, well he’s my prize. I pulled him off that ship. I oversee him. As my last demand before I turn him over to ye, I decide where he goes. Got it?” 

Larkey sighed raising a submissive hand.

“I hear ye.” 

And that was the end of it. The captain would no longer take any place in the care regarding his health. It was most certainly for the better, no? At the moment James didn’t have the mind's eye to analyze such things. He was currently trying to calm himself from the circumstances before. His chest was shaking and his teeth were lightly chattering. The same simple phrase running through his mind over and over. ‘You’re fine.’ This was the phrase he had used, for as long as he could remember to push down that shakiness within his soul. He was so afraid, always afraid. But showing it was not an option, especially now. 

The captain walked out of the room with his three other bootlickers, leaving him alone with this ‘Larkey’ Character. It wasn’t his first choice, but it was better than being around the monstrous captain for a minute longer. He hoped so anyway.

“Let’s make this quick,”

He began, 

“I am a busy man, boyo. I’m going to be honest. I don’t have time to babysit the family pet. Ye’ll be fed two times a day. I’ll visit you sometime within the next week and if ye answer my questions, I’ll do ye well. Each time ye refuse me, one of yer meals gets taken away. If ye want food, if ye want to survive, ye’ll comply. If not,”

He turned and pulled open the door, smirking down at him.

“Well, I guess ye don’t like eating.”

And that was the last human contact he received for lord knows how long. It ate him alive.

 

Seclusion took its toll on James over the week that passed. And the depression didn’t help reconcile his fate. At first, he was angry, so angry that this was all life had to give. Eventually, the nothingness got the better of him. James began to feel empty himself. He didn’t fight it. What was he supposed to do? Put faith into a fate that was guaranteed to be faulty? Pretend that he would be happy again? He was not a dreamer of such vibrant optimism. It consumed him, this emptiness. Over the coming weeks, he would wallow in it, become a part of it.

He would fall asleep in the dark and awaken in the dark, hating himself for waking in the first place. Waking in the cold, unable to help himself, save himself from this hell. It was atrocious. It was very musky, making sleep difficult. So he lay awake, praying for something to take him, illness, starvation, or even a blade. It was when the thoughts began, the dark thoughts that urged him to find something, anything that would end this misery. The only thing he clung to that maintained his humanity was pride. He shed not a tear. He made not a sound so that eventually he was forgotten about by all, even the captain himself. All except the young boy who brought down his meal once around noon, and a second late at night, just as Larkey had said. He was a strange young man with his head completely shaven and tattoos littering his body that was no more than a decade. He said not a word and spared not a glance. 

So now, closing in on two weeks since his arrival, James lay awake in the dark hull having not surrendered to a single shout, sob or ounce of sadness. The only sound comprehensive was that of his anxious breathing. 

He thought back to his mother and how she had left him in a similar position, longing a bitter conclusion.

It had been cool that night. The air was dense with fog and it hid them as they ran beneath the dim light of the moon. They trudged through tall grass quickly, his mother practically dragging him behind. They walked many miles. Hours creaked by. And by the time the moon had begun to recede downward, the pair had stumbled upon a town. They had reached the ocean. Finding a sleeping ship in the quiet night, he was left to hide, and wait. His small fragile heart was left to fend for itself in an angry and maniac world. Time slipped away. Now here he lay, in the bowels of hell. 

It was that next week when James next encountered this man. He had spent many empty hours contemplating you see. And this kind of loneliness was not pleasant. It caused him to think in his lonely mind how perhaps the mate might come back. His depraved heart yearned for any human to speak to him, even if he didn’t intend on responding. He began to wish that he would show up already, to ask his shrewd questions. He did not wish consciously for this longing. He wished to die. James thought about it more and more with every day that passed. The simple idea of passing on to the next life seemed like a dream. Life had given him hope, happiness, and loved ones, only to laugh bitterly at him and spit in his face as he realized it was all simply a beautiful lie. Life was a simple, yet glorious lie. Pitty. Now all he wished was to be sent off to heaven to await the end of life for his loved ones. James wanted to end this dark misery, no matter the consequences. It was the lust that plagued him to the very core. It wasn't a question of what he longed for, but for the simple needs that remained idle. He hungered, thirsted, and ached for the simplest ray of sunlight. How James craved to be able to dip his body into a vat of water and rinse himself of the dust that had begun to gather upon his pathetic form. 

It was not only his physical needs that caused him grief but his mental ones as well. He wished to sit simply for a while and read. He yearned for a pleasant novel to fill his mind with distractions from the bitterness of reality. He continued to wish for a pleasant conversation, a soft voice and mild, loving words. All of these thoughts drove him back to his adoptive mother, Beth. Oh, Beth in all of her sweetness as the affectionate creature she was. He longed to be with her, consuming her wonderful cooking. Speaking of Beth, He also longed for home. He wished oh so dearly for the quiet shade of a cherry tree in the summer. It was under that tree, to the east of his home that he had grown to understand the world around him, and although it was tainted by human nature, it was also blessed with beauty. He begged God for only another simple moment with Johnny in the cool breeze next to a blue lake. Oh, those wonderful days of his teenage years where he and his friend would fish, sing, and hold their heads high. For this was his childhood. 

But alas he was here. James was trapped in a dungeon, undoubtedly inescapable. And when the latch door of this chamber swung open, his heart began to patter. He had nowhere to run or hide. Perhaps this was, in fact, a good thing? If he could not run, he could not get to safety, and he was not exceptionally strong. He would surely be killed if it were someone- something deadly. And that was what he wanted, no?

He watched with careful eyes. 

A drunken creature stumbled towards him. It was dark. Too dark to delineate any predominant features. However, the figure was tall with a lean and well-muscled frame, built after years of climbing, wrestling, and sword fighting- the like. Young and strong. More than a decade of practice in intimidation and the encouragement of fear. 

He believed in the depths of his dark heart that his presence was to be respected because of these listed traits. Because of his power. His word was all anyone needed and he would get exactly what he wanted. However, this figure would soon find that none of these tools would aid him in achieving what he desired. You see, this man desired respect. And on this ship, that was how it was. At the snap of his fingers, the nearest man was responsible for delivering exactly what he wanted. Questioning towards these desires was considered absolute insurrection. It was not tolerated. 

And now, here he was, this powerful man. He was unable to stand straight at the moment, but James could tell that at full height he would have easily towered over. He hobbled forward and ended up on the floor, torso rested against a support beam. Now perhaps this pirate desired fear, but the question was, would he receive it? Ha. From James? Certainly not. What good is fear to a dead man? And besides, this stumbling fool wasn’t exactly what he thought of when he pictured dignity. He thought more along the lines of pathetic and easily scrutinized. It took the drunk man a couple moments to realize there was another being in his presence. The beastly man cleared his throat and almost began laughing as he did so. After regaining his composure, he reformulated his thoughts... somewhat anyway.

"Tell me mate, who allowed ye t' board this fine ship? Perhaps ye be a runaway. 'n who's been feedin' ye fer that matter?"

James struggled to comprehend the slurring and its context. He lost interest almost immediately. It took the man awhile, but once he was able to position himself, the pirate stood, one hand rested in his pocket. His other hand hung stiff against his side. James noticed it twitching slightly as if it possessed its own restlessness. 

He looked up with exhausted eyes. They were filled with a week’s worth of restless nights on a cold floor. 

"I don’t think I quite understand. Aren’t you supposed to be the one harboring..." He paused for a moment, possessed by a thought, 

"I'm being fed by some lad with a distinct lack of hair upon his scalp, as well as an ungodly amount of tattoos."

This seemed to humor the pirate.

"Skatter-red, my boy! What a lad he is, quite the entertainment."

James scowled. 

"I'm sure."

"But ye know,"

The pirate reached up and scratched the back of this neck. He tried his best to raise himself into an erect position. He stumbled but made it. 

"I would really like t’ know more about ye. Tell me about yer life. Family, friends, lover?"

James turned his gaze away. He remained silent. The pirate raised a sharp brow.

"No? Come on now,"

James lightly closed his eyes.

"Ye might as well. Nothin' t’ lose."

The man took a step closer, closing the distance between them. James' heartbeat quickened. His pride was stronger. 

The man with raven hair knelt in front of him on a knee. He met eyes with the strange savage. They demanded submission. It was as if he were counting down in his head the mere seconds of patience he had left. James remained steadfast. He could smell the rum off of Larkey’s heated breath. Minutes ticked by and he felt the air around him grow tense. The weakness inside of him said "give in. There's nothing to lose". The rest of him said no. Show no fear. 

Finally, the pirate had had enough. This pirate, you see had a temper. This was obviously not to say uncommon, but the severity of his anger was intense. Enough so that it made the others afraid. He had gained a reputation among this crew that he was not one to be tried. And now, he stood in front of the young male who defied him and smacked his face with the blunt force of a calloused hand. James' neck ached viciously from the whiplash, but he remained silent. The pirate growled in frustration, knowing beating would only take him farther from his goal. James found himself coddling his wound with his cold hands. He pulsed in fear. Instead of giving in, he made his stance as that of stone. Unchanging, uncaring. What good is a meat suit in the afterlife? 

His upper arm was grabbed in a vice-like grip and yanked upward. Rough fingers took hold of his face and an inhuman strength kept him from pulling away. He was met with black eyes.

"Don't try me, mate. Ye'll regret it."

He was released once more. 

The man wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. 

The pain in his face forgotten but achy, James watched as the pirate slinked away. He slammed the hatch door with an iron thud.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! How's life? Enjoying the story so far? I would love to know... But like, I totally understand the inconvenience of commenting so like no pressure. However, if you did enjoy, don't hesitate to follow. Anywho, I just wanted to leave a little note here. Typically I don't love authors notes so I'll try to keep things brief. I wanted to explain some stuff about what I have so far. This story is completely finished as of August (took me a total of twelve months to write) but now I am currently revising plot holes and such. The story is divided into 6 parts to make things more manageable. This chapter is the end of part 1! Yayy! However, this also means I won't be updating until I finish revising part two so it may be a week or so. But I will return! Our adventure has only just begun. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking your time to read this. Best wishes to you all,  
> ~ Hope

James was in serious pain. He had been for a long, long time now. The pirate hosting him, however, was not. Larkey had lived on this ship for a very long time. He knew exactly what he was doing and when he was supposed to do it. If he failed, the consequences were unpleasant. As a young man, this would have perhaps frightened him, holding such responsibility. And now? Less frightening than empowering. And he clung to that power. He would wake shortly before sunrise and collect the writings crafted the night before. They were taken down to the quarterdeck where he would distribute individual papers with a list of goods they would be distributed with. 

The crew would then be allowed to collect these goods later on as the month progressed. Once morning passed, he would survey the upper deck. Men would be watched with careful eyes. If their jobs were done incorrectly, they would be corrected. If a man was caught committing illegal acts in accordance with the rules of the ship, he would stride off to his cabin. There, under his bed, he would retrieve a journal, filled with rules and punishments that coincided with these rules. If no punishment existed, the crew would be gathered and vote on the sentence. At night they would raid if it came to, and they would do what they all did best. Pillaging was by far the most interesting part of his job. And he had become accustomed to it. 

With or without, he would end his night with a solid hour or more of drinking himself into a stupor. Indeed, that was what these men did best. The only one who refused drink with them was the captain. He never gave a reason as to why (not that anyone had ever bothered to ask, it seemed somewhat personal). Like any pirate, he drank his share of brandy throughout the day and a glass of fine wine in the evening. Freshwater was a rare convenience. So he indulged, but not nearly to the degree that Larkey would. The quartermaster could hold his alcohol. But work came first. 

Today was no different. He spent his morning with Bones and Roger, as he did most days. They were his closest thing to companions, however work oriented they were. 

Bones was boatswain. He supervised the course ahead and checked the equipment used by the men. He was getting up there as far as pirates went. His face was tan and grizzled with salt and pepper hair. He adorned a beard that any man would be proud to attain. Larkey was unsure of his exact age but if he had to guess it would probably be around that of his father’s when he passed. Bones was a short man but despite his appearance, he was strong, built like a tank, and very good at what he did. He gave direct orders to Roger who was in charge of repairs around the ship. 

Not as aged as Bones and not quite as spry as Larkey, Roger was lean and long-limbed. His long, wavy hair was held back by a strip of fabric. He was a witty character who took a liking for Larkey since the day they had met. 

Larkey had never had any siblings. The concept of most family was foreign, but what was certain was that Roger was the closest thing he had to a brother. He had gone to both of them for counseling and a hard drink whenever he felt his emotions cross the line of severe to dangerous. 

 

“Roger, ye can’t bring a dog aboard a ship. They’re a waste of food! And they’re a mess.”

“Blimey, you mean to tell me a cat makes better company?” 

Roger crossed his arms dramatically.

“Ye little rapscallion, o’ course. They’d make more interesting conversation than yee, that be certain.”

The younger man’s face professed appalling. He glanced over at Larkey and gave him a look,

“Are ye hearing this, mate? That ol’ jackal thinks I’m no good for a talk!” 

Larkey kept quiet and shook his head. 

“Oh please, as if ye’re good for anything at all. Might as well go back to bein’ a swabbie!”

Roger gave him a dastardly glare and pointed a finger,

“The captain will hear about these insults! I’ll have you at ropes end for mutiny.”

Bones, who had managed a straight face thus far, cracked a smile and shook his head. 

Larkey felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a familiar man in a baggy shirt and a red bandana. His eyes were squinty, likely from the majority of his time spent under the deck. The light likely wasn’t pleasant on his sore eyes.

“Larkey? Ye aren’t busy perhaps?”

The accent was thick Scottish. Clovis, director of navigation. The Sailing Master. It was a respected title, as it took a very sharp man with experience to read and direct the entire ship and its coordination.

He responded to the man’s question. 

“Ny a’tall. Simply ammusin me poor self with this foolish lot.”

He smiled. Roger smacked him kiddingly as he walked by to begin giving directions.

“Ey, well Nick asked me to fetch ye.”

The quartermaster cocked an eyebrow,

“Oh? May I ask what for?”

“All he would say was that it was about yer project. Even without Lewis there, he wouldn’t speak an ounce more. A little questionable if ye ask me.”

He nodded. It soon dawned on him of the subject Clovis referred to. Not everyone aboard knew about the boy. Once word got around it would spread like wildfire and breed gossip, that was sure. But he wanted to keep it quiet for as long as possible. 

“Thank ye, Clovis. Don’t worry yerself about me. Head back to the helmdeck; Charlie is probably waitin’ on ye.”

Clovis walked away, patting him on the back as he moved by. Roger and Bones didn’t ask. They knew better than to dig up Larkey’s business. The quartermaster soon made his way down to the captains quarters. 

Once in front of the entrance, The pirate pulled the door open to the main room directly underneath the helm of the ship. The light was very dim, although the elegant glass work was still able to be seen. The room was lavish compared to the rest aboard the ship. It sported red drapes that blocked the sun from reaching the Persian rugs that adorned the floor. There was a large bed to the back of the room, a small living area in the center, and an office area to the side. The standard was a 10x8 with four bunks or hammocks and a small cabinet. Being the Quartermaster, Larkey had his own room that was twice the size with a bed (he preferred though to sleep in hammocks as he had for the last decade), a desk with all of his paperwork and logs, and a nice chair. These were high conditions for a ship of this nature. 

Normally men would sleep on the bare floor at the bottom of the hull on potato sack bags, or yards of fabric from drapes they found in houses. But Nicolaus knew that this wasn’t a smart move on his part. If the men didn’t feel like they were being treated fairly, havoc would riot over such conditions. He also knew, the better they were treated the more loyal they would be. Although, Reach did have quite the area to his disposal. Larkey found the captain on a chair in the middle of this area. He was leaning against the backrest and sipped on a glass of wine. Pansy. 

“Reach,”

He continued walking forward until he was able to lean against the chair across from him.

“Clovis said you were in dire need of my assistance. For what deserves the pleasure of our meeting?”

The captain sighed before speaking, 

“Indeed, it is as if only yesterday I saw you with my own two eyes.”

The sarcasm dripped from his voice in a menacing manner that would have filled anyone else with discomfort. Fortunately, this charismatic creature wasn’t just anyone.

“And I have called you to ask about the state of your project. You haven’t been to the hold?”

“No sir, I’m giving him time to adjust. The last thing in our favor is for him to up and die when we’re almost ready to begin travel again to the colonies.”

Reach’s brows furrowed,

“That’s exactly it. In a couple months we will be traveling to Port Royal. Clovis is itching for some miles.”

“You see, this wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me just sell him off.”

This caused tension. Reach growled a response,

“I said no... What were you tending to before you came here?”

“Just finished inventory, divisions, the like.”

“Well, since you’ve finished that how about you go down to see the lad? It’s been over a week, Col-”

He was interrupted by an irritated tone,

“My method hasn’t failed us yet. Refrain from dictating it further... I’ll fulfill your request but only this once.”

And with that, he stood straight, saluted his captain with a satirical bow, and was out the door moments later. 

Larky had always looked up to the man. Reach had always held a bit of a god-like essence in his life as king of the castle. He was powerful, feared, and had something so admirable about him. But the quartermaster had not always been in his position, and being in it now had caused him to reconsider his devotion. It was a most unfortunate thing for him to realize this idol had truly been fool’s gold after all. This had caused fighting over the last handful of months like never seen before. 

And now he had to deal with this problem he had been avoiding. He had seen the boy that day after his capture. Not at first. He had been rather preoccupied at the time, checking some specific goods for accurate values- It’s difficult to know you’re being stolen from when you didn’t even know it was there in the first place. Most ships were likely not this organized, writing down individual items and figuring their price to a Tee. But as his father had always said, “No matter what it be that ye do, farming, fishing, or counting yer cash, be the best. It pays off.” And as he had come to find, it did. Larkey was the best. He was the angriest, most hostile, fox ever to sail aboard this ship. His crew gave very little attention to other pirates so outside of that, he was uncertain. 

But he had to remain the best. So down two flights of stairs, he went to chart his way. Then, when he had turned to leave and saw those eyes, those familiar eyes, cold jade that did not read into what they were seeing, only seeing to see and nothing more, he almost stopped. He wanted to walk over and demand to know who he was, why he held no fear. Because if there was one thing on this earth Larkey knew, it was when a soul held fear. He could have very easily, beat him into submission. But that would be damaging goods which was against ship policy. So he refrained. He waited. It wasn’t easy. He was used to things being handed to him now that he was untouchable. But so far, all this boy had done was cause him vexation. If only he could go grab a drink with Bones...

It flooded back to him all at once, going down to see him that previous night. He had asked him something. A feeling of enmity washing over him. His eyes had met the boys face. And that was all he remembered. Nothing more. 

A sense of dread washed over him. How was he supposed to get anything from him now? The boy was dead. He had nothing left to give and his contempt had likely only grown. This was not good. Perhaps the captain was right after all? It was time to pay the lad a visit.

 

Time was something that tormented James. It was long, confusing, and was the only thing that tied him to the real world. All else was a blur. Eating the flat crackers for his meal, pissing in a bucket off to the side, those were the things that didn’t compute. They just happened. No thought process oself-actualizationon. If he allowed himself such a courtesy it would only increase his chance of acknowledging where he was, the how and the why. They were such grainy things that he did his best to deny. And eventually, when he had gotten to the point where his understanding ended and emptiness began, the loneliness came with it. 

That wasn’t what he had hoped. What James had conceived and how things played out were much different most of the time. And he had been rather presumptuous in believing that the loneliness was a body that could also meet an end. What he had failed to realize- had never had the displeasure of experiencing before- was that loneliness was not a body but a lack thereof, a missing piece of something inside.

And the only sign of notable life over those weeks had been a couple rats scurrying about in search of any kind of sustenance. Sometimes he envied their freedom; their range, although limited to the ship, it was vast compared to his own. Sometimes James felt nothing. This time, he felt his heart pound when the door opened. The pirate from the night previous had returned, but he was no longer the same stumbling, pathetic creature. Although, pathetic was a concept with multiple applications. How acute was the difference between pitiful and pathetic? James was unsure but it was the most thought he had conceived in days.

The pirate brought with him a lamp that somewhat illuminated his features enough to make his handsome face comprehensive. It wasn't to say that the place was now extravagantly bright. It was still very dim, just as dim as their first two encounters. The pirate had also snuck in rather late meaning the light that snuck into cracks and crevasses of the floorboards above in the morning did not shine through as of now. He had eyes that were dark and cunning. And there was something about them, familiar and startling like a distant memory. 

He stood in front of James and knelt to eye level with him. His voice was raspy and dry, 

“What the hell do you want?”

The pirate chuckled, revealing a front set of canines that had been filed into sharpness, as was customary among the crew. They were hidden by moving lips that spoke,

“T'a destroy every odd thing upon this earth that be holy.”

James averted his eyes as the pirate let out a chuckle.

“At least, that likely be what ye believe of me.”

"I came to beg yer forgiveness towards me behavior as o' last night. 'twas an impolite manner to treat a guest such as yourself. Why don’t ye tell me ‘bout yerself?"

He hid legitimate regret with sarcastic teasing and false politeness. It wasn’t satisfying as might be one of legitimacy, but It was probably the most of an apology he would ever get. James was being begged pardon by one of the men who had stolen his life, even if it was in a rather repulsive manner. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning now against the back most wall. The captive crossed his arms. He had returned to his previous position. The man who gave his apology was looking down in confusion. The lack of response perturbed him. They sat there like that for a strange moment. The pirate opened his mouth to speak again (likely some witty comment), but was interrupted by the younger man.

"My name is James. I enjoy my home and my family. A set of things I may never again know of because of your greed. I also have no desire to make merry with a being as hellish as yourself..."

He glared up at him from where he sat. The pirate ate up his words with a growing anger.

"So if you really wish to speak to me I suggest you gain some humanity and the balls to apologize with genuity. I don't socialize with demons as grotesque as yourself." 

James went silent. At this point, there was no easy way to eject from him what this man desired. No amount of threatening and torture could claim these things from him. It is only vaguely possible to threaten a man who has lost his family, companions, home, and all of his earthly possessions. He had nothing left to lose apart from food and he longed for an end to his pain. 

Normally this would not have shaken the pirate. But now, he was left with no words. Who was this puny being to deny him of what he wanted? And why did his insults shake him? He was unsympathetic, soulless, a bastard armed with hatred and bloodied fists. Larkey had always been the one to rip the life from people, take all of these belongings and watch people fall to pieces before his very eyes. But this one, no this one had not a pence in his name and did not care what was to happen to him. Or at least, he acted as if he didn’t. The boy refused to stoop to the same level as those aboard as if he had some sort of prideful dignity left. This infuriated him all the more. He wanted to punch the boy. How he longed to slam him against that wall and torment him, tear him to pieces for such insolence. He wanted to see this captive pay for not obeying his whims, however illogical they may be. But then all of his attempts will have been in vain. It was a stupid, impulsive desire, so he pushed it back. For his own neck at least. 

So he said not a word more and departed with haste. He stormed over the deck, shouting profanities as he went. As we opened the door to the chamber hall, one of the cabin boys almost collided with him. The lad was shoved, sent tumbling to the floor along with the box he was carrying. Not a glance was spared, as Larky plowed through the hall in a blind rage. Once he reached the room at the end of the hall, he yanked open the door in an overly violent manner. The room in front of him was his own and it’s pristine condition didn’t last a moment longer. Papers went flying. A feather pen in a tray of ink flew off the desk as two muscular fists collided with the wooden frame. His breathing was avid and the golden skin of his face was tinted pink. His hands reached up and fisted his black hair as he attempted to rip the anger out of his pulsing heart. Had he not walked out when he did, the boy would likely be dead. Indeed, it was for the better. 

The Timor ultimum flew through the waves, cutting through the sea as a panther that smoothly prowls the forest floor. It lived up to its name, “Ultimate terror” which was something that would come to be fully understood by a small coastal town. In fact, most of these people living on the shore line wouldn’t even live long enough to learn this name, or the power it held. They were all currently sleeping rather quietly under the dense fog that polluted the clarity of night. These houses they lived in were filled with fine things, possessions earned from an honest day’s work. Their wives and children snuggled under quilted sheets and let the bliss of sleep overtake them. Not a care in the world overtook them. 

So why did these people sleep so carelessly, when one only need look a couple kilometers the the west to see this tiger preparing to pounce, slaughter, and swallow them whole? T’was the night watch, you see. After being alerted of raids they had set up systems to alert all men, women, and children when such a thing was to occur, so that they might evacuate their homes, taking only that in which they need, so in that, they may escape with their lives. But little to their comprehension this was no ordinary ship, and the men set to watch had become lazy in their tedious work. Not only this, but the men who were awake still awake at all (if barely so,) could not see through the denseness of the fog. It was barely possible to see even a couple yards ahead. So when the creaking sound of a wooden ship was heard within the bay, a short ways out, they nudged the others awake in confusion. Yet, not a thing was seen by the eye. Not a light of any kind shown through. It made things all the more eerie. But nothing came. They waited until ten, twenty minutes went by. Not another sound. They settled once again into their positions, relaxing slightly as the night blew by. 

One pair of these men, Jack and Brutus, sat in the dark unable to find peace. Jack had patted his partner awake and they had both been ready for a battle. You see, Jack had only been taken on the night watch very recently. He was young, strong, and itching to be made of use. Little to his knowledge, he would come to learn the true depth behind the saying, “careful what you wish for.” It was a simple phrase he had been given by the man sitting next to him. Brutus was getting up there in age, approaching 40 and had been on night watch a long, long time. He had lived through his share of battles and had the scars to show for it. 

However, this didn’t really do much to change Jack’s ming. He was ready. Wasn’t he? After all the training and years of working his body to proper strength, how could he not be? His father had told him otherwise those years before he moved to the little town. But his uncle on the other hand told him if he could find the strength in his heart, he could do anything. As long as he gave himself fully, he would be fine. So he had went. And so far, he hadn’t felt an ounce of regret. And as he thought back to those support filled words that only someone as his uncle could come up with. 

Then his moment ended. 

He heart a muffled shout come from behind him. It was his name. He spun around the see Brutus in the dim light. A knife had now been placed over the older man’s sternum angled downward. The creature hovering over Brutus was a rather tall figure. He was intimidating to say the least and his black eyes sent Jack on edge. Terror ran through him as adrenaline made him pulse. He fumbled for the gun at his belt. 

The pirate snarled in an attempt at silencing Brutus,

“Shut up!”

Then in an instant, his demeanor changed. He spoke softly, sweetly as a father might to their child, 

“You’ll wake the others. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He paused.

“Where is your pay for the night? Just curious since, after you’re both dead, there won't be much ye’ll be needin’ it for.”

Jack and Brutus met eyes in terror.

“Dammit Jack, shoot ‘im!” Brutus spoke in a half whisper.

“Now, now, no need for that. I take it you aren’t going to clue me in then, are ye, Jack?”

Hearing his name sent his head spinning with another pulse of fear.

“I’m going to make you a deal, dear boy. I’m going to give you a 60 second head start. Make every second count because if you don’t, it will not be pleasant. If ye try shooting me, trust me, I’ll make yer pain more excruciating than anything ye’ve ever experienced.” 

Blood ran cold. Jack’s mind blanked. This wasn’t supposed to be how it happened. He was supposed to notice the odd quiet of the night. A strange shape passing over the water. He was supposed to notice these things. To hear the beast climbing the wall with the scuff of boots, sound the alarm with the bell sitting behind Brutus. He was supposed to shoot the man and assure that every wretched thief was killed. But his hands were far too shaky. In fact, they began shaking so badly that he dropped his weapon. And in an instant, before he even had time to consider his next action, he had thrown himself at the exit, skipping far too many rungs as he hurried down the ladder. Blood pulsed through his head making him dizzy and he fell. A scream erupted from Brutus as he begged Jack not to leave. It was a scream that would haunt the young man for the rest of his life, until death may he rest. 

“YOU’RE A COWARD JACK. YOU HEAR ME?!”

Immediately after that was when the first loud boom woke the town. Now that the night watch had been taken out, the cannons that lined the walls of the shore had been lifted one by one and turned toward the many building that filled the town. Three shots were sent flying into the nearest buildings, causing immense damage. A fire had been started that quickly spread through the wood supported homes. It lit the town like a christmas tree, for lack of better reference. 

Larky, who had since slashed his captive's throat, had done so in an agonizingly slow fashion so that he could watch as blood delicately dripped down the side of the neck. His groans of pain eventually subsided as blood loss sent him descending into darkness. The pirate, after taking a moment to appreciate his work, realized he had lost count in his head. He needed to go search for that boy soon. And he even knew the boy’s name. What a special occasion. Very rarely did he have the pleasure of knowing their names. Patting down the body below him, he found a bag of coins that had been pocketed only a handful of hours before. He pulled the gun from his own belt and jumped to the ground, ignoring the ladder entirely. Screaming had only just begun as his men gutted homes, carrying out loads of goods to sort through. They were much needed. This was the last raid they needed until it was time to head out to sell what they thought would make a profit. Then the could take time to recover, make repairs, the like. 

He walked through the burning mess and wondered where the captain was, Jack now pushed to the back of his mind. He had lost interest. No matter. He would find a game of his own. He followed one of his men into a house that had not been burnt to the ground energy coursed through him as he sensed what was coming. This was always his favorite part. It was the part where he was filled with blind rage that sent him crashing through the room in search of its inhabitants. There, in a cupboard, he found two girls. The first one was probably between the age of 16 and 17. He tossed her aside where she landed on the floor with a cry. The pirate behind him drug her off to the lord only knows where to do god only knows what. This was of little thought to Larkey. He only wanted to be entertained. He he grabbed the second girl, who was much younger, and pulled her along by the wrist. She was now bawling, large crocodile tears trailing down her baby cheeks. She called out to her mother, then her father, in high pitched screams. Larkey gave her a fanged grin that made her cry even harder.

He called out mockingly,

“Daddy! Come help yer little girl!”

He laughed a maniac laugh.

“She’s been taken by the BIG BAD WOLF.” T

His acute hearing picked up on heavy breathing that entered through the door behind him. A man and his son stood in the door.

“Let go of her!”

The boy demanded. Ah, a small dog with a big voice. This made the pirate smirk.

“Oh, but we were having such a fond time, weren’t we darlin’?”

His voice was vile. 

“But if you must, come here. Come get her. Otherwise, she’s so adorable, I might as well take her home with me.”

The father let out a pained cry and tried to stop his son as he stepped forward. He walked closer, and closer, feeling a voice tell him to be on guard. Without, he would surely die. And once he was a yard away. The pirate did something terribly unexpected.

“DRAW!”

He called. In a split second, Larkey had pulled his gun back from his belt and shot the boy. He collapsed moments later. The room filled with violent laughter that emanated from his voice box. “And that's how they do it in America!” 

The father cried out again and ran towards him, carrying only a shovel. The pirate easily dodged the heavy blow and the man was sent sprawling. Larkey kicked the man in the side once, and thrice to the side of the head. He wished only to immobilize him. Larkey bent to look down at the little girl. He had let go of her wrist now and stared with angry eyes. He thought for one terrifying moment. What was he to do with her? Then he spoke.

“Run.” And she did. She ran as fast as her little feet would carry her. 

Larkey bent down next to the boy. He would be the example, he decided. He wouldn’t be all that much fun though. The shot had killed him much faster than he had hoped, going directly through the neck. He would have to play with the other one instead. The quartermaster turned on his heels. Looking at the older man sent a wave of anger running through his veins. Attacking him? With a shovel of all things? He surely must have been desperate. He pulled the knife from it’s hilt. Oh, what to do, what to do...

Blood oozed from the man’s right ear. Oh dear. He walked outside calling out for aid by those in his crew. He was greeted by two men. One, he instructed to find him a rope. The next followed him inside. Larkey leaned over the man and turned him over so that he could shake him awake. The man’s eyes flew open and filled with fear. 

“Yer coin! Where is it?” 

He shook his head. The pirate angled the knife perpendicular against his forehead. He pushed and the man began to scream.

“DON’T lie to me, wretch! Yer cupboards are full. I’m sure ye have a shilling or so to spare.”

His voice residually becoming laced with more and more anger. He pushed only a little harder when he cried out.

“THE-THEBED IT’SUNDERTHEBED LORD PRESERVE THY SOUL-” 

“There. That wasn’t so hard.”

He plunged the knife into the forehead of the man, letting his anger build. A sickening crack was heard. He gestured to the man behind him to find the bed. No questions were asked. 

Larkey pulled the knife out of him. And let out a yell as he slammed it into his ribcage. It was blinding, what happened to his mind. Chaos. No one attacks him and lives to tell. Not a soul. Especially the soul of one that lied through his teeth. He decapitated the man and picked up the head by the hair. He ran over to the door, pulled back his arm, and with his brute strength, threw it as hard as he could, sending it far away. He let out a yell of frustration as he did so. Skatter-red had stopped his carrying of supplies to watch the quartermaster in his rage. Larkey noticed his watching and met eyes with the boy. After a moment, Red began laughing. The man laughed along with him. He noticed a rope had been left next to the door, just as requested. After regaining his senses he went back inside. There was that boy. 18 perhaps? A shame he was dead. It reminded him of the captive aboard his ship, who looked to be around the same age. It reminded him of the lad’s arrogant voice as he denied him information. It had been a week since then, but God it still killed him. Larky felt another dose of anger fill him in the pit of his stomach. He took his knife one final time and went to work on the body. He carved into that gunshot, creating a large gap through his neck. He took the rope and began stringing it through. 

God, it was satisfying, watching the rope pull along the flesh, drenching it in red. He licked chapped lips and tasted blood. The metallic flavor sent him wild and the carnage was like nothing he had ever dreamed of experiencing as a child. And besides that, tradition had to be upheld. It was now time to carve the eye. He tied both ends of his rope together and held them as he began walking. He walked towards the docks, where he knew the captain would be. And there he was, Reach the ridiculed, standing over the men as they gathered in await of their second in command. The elder turned to look at the one in front of him and noticed the dirt ridden corpse being drug behind him. 

“That the one?”

He asked in a tone implying Larkey knew what he was talking about. This humored him. He smirked with an evil grin. 

 

“Of course.”


	5. Chapter 4

In a certain bedroom aboard a certain ship, a man reached up with strong arms to stretch away the stiffness derived from sleep. Fatigue had consumed his body the night before. He had been in the mess hall with the crew as he celebrated the bounty they had gathered that night. They spent many hours indulging in the washed down beer and shots of whiskey high in supply. They had taken care of him well. Larkey had been ripped from his world of bliss by sleep and paid for that time with searing pounds to the back of his head. Solace from his irrational thoughts was ripped away. Time to face the day again. 

The alcohol had helped him push aside how long it was going to take him to log and record all of the material from the day before. For a couple of hours, that is. But did he regret that raid? Not an ounce. Did he regret the drinking? Not in a million years. Images flooded back to the body he had chosen the night before. 

He handed off the rope that was close to, say, 25 feet, 12 when folded in half like it was. One of his men drug the corpse towards the church, as was customary. There he stripped him, gutted him, and carved the eye shape of their flag into his spotless, bare, back. It was a symbol of fear that they had continued for their time at sea. It had made them known. No one could take credit because of it. The last step was for two of the men to hoist this body up to the steeple. Up and up they went, not wasting a minute. By about 30 feet, this body was hung for all to see. It was certain their atrocity would not be forgotten. 

On the other hand, a less pleasant feeling from before was also in the back of his mind: The young man he had encountered before from the watchtower. He had escaped. How ironic it was to think, that despite his cold heart and careless posture, pure disgust was his one attitude towards this boy. He was a traitor. And out of all the many moral convictions Larkey could have felt, it was a traitor that got to his soul. It drew a line. And the line Jack had crossed was too far. How odd it was. He knew that fear was a dangerous thing. In fact it was so powerful that most people kept it closer to their hearts than their own families. This Jack fellow had severely overestimated himself. He was unaware, somehow, of the weakness in his knees that caused him to shake. He was a truly pitiful sight. So he showed mercy. He liked to think of himself as somewhat of a benevolent god. Even if to the average man he was far from such. He even offered a trade. His life would be spared, so long as he ran. And Jack did run. It only took him a half moment to seize the opportunity. He may not have gotten exactly what he asked for but it was close enough. All for a simple trade.

He realized something. Something important. The best way to get what you want? Offer something in return. And what did he need very much so at this point? Well, the first thing he wanted was a mug… but other than that he wanted to know about the young man in the hull. And he wanted to know now. 

Larkey pushed his body out of the hammock he crawled into the night previous. His bones ached. A sharpness throbbed against a tender area within his skull. Once situated with feet on the floor and his torso balanced, he tried a couple of meager steps. No bother in moving more deliberately than needed only to injure himself. Yet it was too slow. There was a small part of him that was grotesquely curious as to if his little experiment would be of futility. How disappointing it would be to find out it was. But it didn’t matter, because even if the possibility of failure was in question, there was that ounce of a chance. There was always a chance. So he found himself trotting forward, ignoring the newfound pain in one of his knees that had not been there 24 hours before. 

So across the deck, he made his way around and avoiding a handful of crew members who would beg his attention the minute they saw him. The quartermaster was in no sort of mood to deal with realities of that nature. So when he was stopped by one of these men with a call, 

“Ey! Larkey boy!”

He scowled and crossed his arms to hide clenched fists. He turned back to meet the face of this disturbance. 

“Larkey, did Bones tell Riggor he wanted this scaffold rope on foaksul with Ronny or the hold?” He sighed. 

“Why the hell would I know? Do I look like the boatsw’n to ye? User yer damn head before ye ask me idiotic questions.”

The mate held up hands in defense, 

“Blimey, mate! Sorry to catch you on the wrong side of the bed today. A little cross this mornin’ are we?” The mate began to wander off, putting aside his sour mood. So did the quartermaster. He eventually was able to head to the lower deck and the gallery, then the tiller where, in a back room, quietly sat a young man. Larky softly pulled the door open. And there, sitting on the floor, the hostage hunched over with his head in his bony hands. He made note of how weak he looked. There was no way on Earth this mere boy had the mental will to deny him again. He had not the physical prowess. Colin set down the lantern he had borrowed from the upper level and placed it on the floor in front of the captive. He sat himself down, joining him. Guarded eyes scanned over as the pirate crossed his legs in front of him. 

“Ello lad, I’m sure you’ve been looking forward to my visit. Tell me, what ‘ave ye been up to? What does one do with hours, upon hours, of time to spare?” The scaly snake was reminding James of his current position to break him down. It was intended to remind him of his weakness. But in fact, it did not make him feel weak. In reality, it made him feel nothing. He was only reminded of the monster that this man was. 

“I have some more questions for ye.” 

Silence.

“I hope ye aren’t still gonna keep playing these games of yours.”

Nothing.

“I’m not always a forgiving man, lad. Don’t test me.”

And still, not a word was spoken. James smirked at his threat. It sent an uneasy feeling through the pirate. This look could have been mistaken for a challenge, but no. There was something else. There was something different about that small smile. It had nothing to do with doubt, humor, or satisfaction. It was of irony. Bitter irony. The man was once again making the same mistake he had twice now. He was flaunting his power.

No. He knew that wouldn’t get him anywhere. All he could do was offer honesty. How strange a feeling that was to him. No, that wasn’t supposed to be his response, allowing a discomforting reality. But he did. He let it overpower him and he didn’t know why. Larkey took a deep breath as he recomposed his disposition. He looked into the downcast eyes of the one in front of him, 

“But that, I suppose, wouldn’t get me anywhere, would it?”

He thought for a simple moment.

“Are you lonely down here, James?”

The captive’s gaze flew up to meet his, round eyes narrowed and crowned by furrowed brows.

“And what business is that of yours?” He spat. 

There it was, this boy’s fire. However recently smothered, it was still a gentle kindling. 

“I suppose since I’ve been charged with caring for ye it is most certainly my business. I thought I might as well introduce myself.”

He cleared his throat,

"My name be Colin Lockie McAlester, Th' II an the better of the two.”

James cocked his head. His curiosity had been pricked.

"What happened to the first one?”

"Ey, well ye see lad, he be dead..."

Larkey grew into a short fit of laughter. His ruthless grin gave James an eerie feeling. It just seemed wrong for such a sharp face. It was still young and smooth, only tarnished by a scar on the left cheek and ran over smirking lips.

“Although, th' crew calls me Larkey."

He ceased his quiet chuckling.

James watched as his smile fell slightly. His brows knit. Something had gotten his attention but James was unsure what. Maybe he had heard something? The pirate walked towards the stairs leading to the second deck, leaving the door open for him to see the rest of the lower level. He flung the hatch open to the second floor. A voice called from above.

"I'm busy!"

He called back.

"I'll be out in nary a wink!"

Another couple words were exchanged by the pirates before he gave in. Colin grumbled and climbed through the top. The door was slammed shut in a rather angry manner. Some loud screams and yells were heard from above deck.

The Quartermaster was faced with the reality, once again, that he was relied upon. He was a busy man. And this whole trading business wasn’t going to be as easy as Colin had thought.

Over the next couple of weeks, the pirate spent more and more time in the brig, the majority of it unknown by the captain. The captain was aware of Larkey’s “method” in all of its manipulation and cunning. However, had he known the true nature of this particular situation, he would most certainly not approve. The captain would have preferred he beat the young man to death. Larkey wanted something more… Stimulating. 

The month of May met with a heated June that did little to effect James who was cold either way. The pirate would tell the boy stories of his travels. James would respond every once in a blue moon. The replies were mostly one-word questions and sounds of understanding. The most common being "Mhm" and "Why?". He learned very quickly to leave out the most gruesome bits when the boy sent him a glare of disapproval and a scoff. The goal was to get him to open up, not seal himself. Seeing that his manners were out of place, he changed them. The boy was surprised at his adaptability. Larkey didn’t know why he did it as it was not customary to protocol, but he found it worked and he also found that he liked it. He would never have admitted such a thing to even himself, but he truly liked it. So he continued to speak to James.

And one day, James decided he would speak back. He had given it some thought and decided if he was going to die, it mattered not if he conversed with a devil. It wouldn’t make much difference either way. 

“Tell me,”

He asked of his own accord. 

“What is truth?”

Once the question hit him, Larkey made a face of distaste, as if the boy had just vomited on his shoes. He wondered if it was perhaps rhetorical. Maybe he was trying to off put him or manipulate Larkey himself? Or, perhaps it meant nothing at all? Seclusion did funny things to the mind. But he was stared down by a waiting gaze. 

“Are you daft? I asked you a question.”

James quipped. 

This started Colin all the more and he scowled down at him. 

“If anyone here is daft, it’s you. The bloody hell does that mean?! What is truth? Bloody rubbish, that is.”

“Yet you avoid my question. Tell me, I’m curious. What law of nature does a devil bow to, omitting those of his own evil intentions?”

This was the most he had said the entire week. The pirate wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or very suddenly demeaned for wishing him to speak in the first place. He knew not what to say to this dangerous, looming question that he scarcely understood.

“How about ye tell me about yer family instead?” 

He tried to change the topic, his mood suddenly directed from comfort to chagrin. It wasn’t the most pleasant feeling. 

“Since we now know ye ain’t mute.”

It was the wrong thing to say, he soon realized

James’ speaking ceased until their next visit. When the younger man spoke again, he asked the same question, the pirate still refusing to comply. He tried to ignore it. But each time Colin visited, he was very certain to apologize to the best of his weak ability and in a last-ditch effort to earn even a minute piece of James trust. Just enough to get what he wanted. That was all, wasn’t it? He would give him very simple and sarcastic motions of meaning that were immediately brushed aside. And Larkey knew this was not what James wanted. He, like all others, wished for him to show his humanity or at least the impression of such. However, his dark heart was not able to set aside his deep-set pride. He struggled between his desires and his dignity. And oh how his dignity dug into him. 

This wasn’t quite as simple a task as he assumed

Larkey had seen many a slave board this fine vessel. Fear. Always so much fear. But not this time. It sent him itching with curiosity. They always had sad faces. It was the thing that let him know their strength and the chance they had, the shape of their mouths and the emotion in their eyes. If he walked down and was met with screams, crying perhaps, he had a couple of days until they would be truly broken. An attack? Insults and spitting? Also common. A couple weeks at the most. 

But dead eyes and hardly a word exchanged over a topic he chose? Inconceivable. Incomprehensible. He was a headstrong man. He liked his power. This was one of the ways he could flaunt it for enjoyment. This was not a pleasantry. James had made it immediately personal. He had taken the pirate, wrapped him around his finger, played him like a fiddle. Then, just as he thought they were getting somewhere, he shut in like a lockbox. He knew how to direct a conversation. So he did. Yes, that was it. That was why he liked it. The boy had been toying with him, that was all. 

Colin did not like this. 

He did however like the idea of getting this captive off of the ship post haste. It was necessary for his sanity. He hated the doubting, the little notes in the back of his mind that dared him to reconvene his methods. The thought of new ways to break James’ hard shell, to crack him open like an oyster. This was difficult. It was positively time-consuming.

He thought that perhaps showing in, at least slight intimacy, the constructs of his childhood perhaps, would provoke the boy. It was a hefty trade, but he wanted to relate and maybe connect somehow. He wanted to be able to decrypt the strange things the boy had told him and asked him. That’s what he told himself at least. He spoke of truth and spirit. But it wasn’t the conversation Larkey needed to be having. So he disguised his manipulation heavily with rich words and far off places he had been. He returned to his younger years. 

"My father was born off of the northern coast. His parents were very wealthy. When he renounced them so he could live a life of his own, they cut off his funding. But his soul longed for freedom."

“He was a traveler when he was young. He was what ye might call a free spirit. And long before I was born he was discovering foreign lands. His curiosity brought him to Egypt and he found a strange language, an odd culture, and beautiful women. He found a young lady he wished to marry, brought her home, and had me before he had time to unpack his trousers."

He checked to assure himself that James was interested in his story. 

The young man watched with curious eyes. 

"Ye know technically I'm a bastard. I was born less than a month after their marriage. No matter. Ye see my da had many debts to pay. He refused to speak a word about it, but somehow he became mixed up with a pirate. The captain demanded he spend the rest of his days on the ship, working for him, or he would destroy his family and his home."

He paused and gave himself a bare moment to think.

"I only saw him a brief while every couple months, even whole years when I was very young. My mother had decided to return home and I had been left with my father's mother. She attempted to break my spirit since she had "failed to in my father." It wasn't so. When I was a little younger than 12.. I remember my birthday was perhaps a month away, my father came for me. He stole me away in the night. That was when I joined the crew."

The pirate hadn’t realized how over the top he had gone until the story had already left his lips. Colin shook away the nostalgia and continued,

“Now I work for Reach. I organize the crew and give out rations. Second in command. Been doin’ so ever since.” 

James finally commented on his story, slightly taken aback by his openness. Larkey had hoped that was what it would bring at least. To no avail, the boy proceeded to ignore all he had said as if he’d never spoken at all. There was a short pause of quiet. Then it was broken. 

“I’ll ask you one more time,”

James spoke in a monotone voice. 

“What is your truth? Did your grandparents perhaps not share their morals with you?”

The monster scoffed, frustrated by the insurrection. 

“Avast yer nonsense! Ye think I have time for that rubbish?”

“Humor me, pirate. Give it a chance. Perhaps then you’ll understand my dilemma. Where do these rules of yours arise?”

“Why, the captain, ye cheeky rat.”

“And what, may I ask, gives these rules weight?”

And of course, Larkey stormed out. But he did consider those words. They did seep into his soul. 

Perhaps it wasn’t immediate. It was over the period of a couple days that Colin would go out approaching night and watch the ever-changing sky. The sun that had once shown it’s glorious golden tips upon the wooden beams and cotton masts were now a shade of light pink and brilliant orange. They became deeper and deeper as his thoughts did. And he stumbled upon something important that he had never thought before. And it terrified him, more than anything else. James never spoke of it again, nor did he. There seemed to have been some kind of silent agreement. Somehow, some way, James could tell that the change had occurred. It was as if he had finally been able to plant a seed. He could only wait to see if it would in time grow. 

 

 

It was many nights before he returned to James chamber. It was very dark and very quiet. This night was colder than it normally was and any exposed areas of skin grew goosebumps. Larkey wore a woolen jacket over a cotton shirt, yet he still felt it, unused to the lack of warm air. He couldn't imagine what it was like to have not a single way to warm one's self. All that covered the poor boy's skin was a thin pair of trousers. How pitiful he was. But Larkey was a selfish man. He held no pity. For this man was a pirate. He didn't care, and wouldn’t care until something inside of him was forced into change. 

As he went to open the trap door that lead to the hull, he heard a sound. It was a wretched, angry noise like none he had heard from James in the past. But who else could it be? There was no one else in the brig. And if there were, they would be breaking the rules, specified by the captain. The only one allowed to enter the storage room was he. Damn him to hell if they lost their sale.

He rushed down the stairs, angry thoughts flooding his mind. Curse his useless crew. Then he flung the door open, yells still prolonged. He was shocked to find not a single crew member. There was a slight tinge of embarrassment from thinking so little of his men and he promised himself to give them the benefit of the doubt next time. There was but one person within this room. It was a boy with a curled form, writhing on the floor. His golden hair was a wild mess as nails dug into a bleeding scalp. His yells were much louder now, Colin could practically feel the pain flowing from him as a dark aura. And it was so strange. Larkey thrived off of the pain of others. He was a sadistic, degradational, heathen. But this was different. Odd, even. He didn’t know quite how to react. So he didn’t. He simply watched. Looking down, he found his hands to be shaky. Everything was somewhat a blur. It was as if time had slowed around him, yet his pulse sped and rose normally. 

Something came to him, a vision, or perhaps a memory from long ago. It was foggy, distant, but it was there and it felt like a punch to the guts. He tried to remember, pull it forward but it would not budge. And it was terrifying. 

Colin never visited James in the night after this. He would remember it though. From time to time he would think back to that night. He would always remember in the thickest of moments the feeling of his tense form under his hands, skin, and bones. 

If it had been anyone else in all the world, he would have kicked him. Had that memory not fell upon him, Larkey would have shaken him inappropriately hard or yelled in his ear. But this put him ill at ease. There was something he did not yet know, did not understand. It was rare for him to admit such a thing. He slowly leaned down, patting the boy,

“James. Come on, lad, wake up.”

James shot up, breath heavy. Other than this, it was silent. And It was an awkward silence. 

James reached up, surprised to find his cheeks hot and moistened by tears. Neither spoke a word for what felt like a very, very long time. It could have been minutes, it could have been an hour. But neither moved an inch. Eventually, James was able to return to his state of general detachment from reality. His breathing returned to normal. 

He asked Colin what the hell he wanted in a vexed way that was of James’ character. Larkey cleared his dry throat. "I was restless," the pirate responded. James didn’t believe him but it was as if nothing had happened. So they moved on to other things. On this particular occasion, he told the boy of his days with his grandmother and all she had done to him. Her attempts at breaking him were all in vain. Larkey made this very clear to James. He told the young man a story

"Ye see this scar?" he pointed to the one on his upper lip. It was a long white line that traveled from just below his eye to the crease of his chin. 

"When I was a lad before my father came for me, I often snuck into the library down the hall from my room. I liked to read ye see. It took my mind away from the place I was.”

This caught James attention.

“I would read of adventures and far away lands and worlds beyond what you or I could ever imagine. She didn't like this and banned me from reading them."

He smirked thinking back to his grandmother's stern glare of resentment. 

"She caught me one of those nights, smacked me across the face with a dictionary. It was a lot deeper at the time and it bled all through the night. She even yelled at me the next morning for getting blood on my sheets."

He smiled recalling a memory. 

“When I turned 16 my father let me go off on my own when we met port. I would go in and drink with the men on the occasion. Thought I was a hot thing, that I did. People would ask for a story and I’d tell ‘em how I’d met a match with a Kraken, siren, all sorts of things. I was convincing... That’s what Bones told me, at least.” 

James smirked. This gave Colin a sense of satisfaction. He was listening to him and was seeing him as more than just some monstrous creature. He had at one point, been just as human as James himself. He was capable of emotions. Happiness, fear, irritation- lots of anger…

As he told the story, Larkey lost himself for a couple moments. It hit him in not long after how far he had gotten in his little game. It had started out far more innocent. Dark, yes, but a game that his father had played with him. It began with rats. Many rats, as many as he could find. His job was to hunt them down at the bottom of the deck and to skewer as many as he could with a long knife. It went like that for a long time. He killed so many of them. When he was a little older he was given a new task. Carving the eye. The first time he had only done part of it. He made small slits and was careful as anything not to get messy. That changed quickly. Soon he was working with the captain breaking captives. And this was really when everything changed. The voice in the back of his mind, meant to stop him was ever so slowly silenced. A great game of push yourself to the brink. Desensitization. He had become something, and that something was not what he had hoped to become as a young boy. He was apathetic to the voice now, yes, but it remained true. The person he dreamed of being was dead. And no matter how little this piece of him was, it was there. A small voice in the back of his mind pleaded with him. 

“I was very lonely in that old house... Not my finest of years.”

That child within his cold, decrepit heart whispered in his ear. It asked him to be merciful if only this once. The pirate came to his decision. Perhaps sincere this time?

"James?"

"Hm?"

Colin let out a sigh and said goodbye to his dignity. But images flashed before him of his small body as a child, locked in a cellar as punishment, remembrances of his head being smacked brutally by the crew member who ranked ahead of himself. His head bleeding profusely. Uncut nails digging into the soft scalp of a different head as James made himself bleed, unconscious, unknowing. And unable to defend himself from his own inflicted pain. A boy who had almost drowned.

"I'm sorry this has happened to ye. You're a good kid. I wish I could be of more help to ye..."

It was suddenly very quiet. He looked down at the boy in the lamplight. He was staring at him in utter confusion. Torn between success and irritation, James looked like he had just been read the will of his rich relative who was recently deceased. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes. Colin waited, wondering what he would say if anything. The boy let out a yawn. 

"You really woke me up for this?"

Colin smiled at his cynicism. He began to think that was all James would say when he spoke again. 

“I was an orphan. And I may be mediocre as far as my usefulness but I was healthy. Healthful enough in fact that I avoided the typhus outbreak entirely. I survived long enough to be adopted by a well-off family as a boy. My den mother’s name was Beth. She was very dear to me,”

His voice cracked,

“Her husband is a jeweler and it- was teaching me his trade. I was traveling the sea selling his creations. Long labor, but worth it in the long run. My ship was picked up by your captain. I am aimed to be sold out to some rich businessman with soft hands and a gut. In need of menial labor."

The pirate looked at him realizing that James didn’t know they planned on taking him back to his family,

“Oh?”

James looks away for a moment.

"But I do believe the worst is yet to come."

"Worse than being chained up in a cellar? That's pretty humiliating if you ask me."

The slave boy rubbed his aching wrists.

"Some things are worse than death. Humiliation is not one of them."

The rugged pirate gave him a snide look of disagreement. 

“A will that is my own, now that is something no one should ever give, compliant or otherwise.”

After a moment, Colin’s feelings ever so slowly turned into one of respect. The realization came to him that this boy wasn't just another sheep to the flock. He was a wolf in a pelt, caught in a snare. A wild thing stuck on the ocean and dreaming of open air. The pirate with Raven locks had seen many a simple mind. This was not one of them. Suddenly, he wished to release the boy with wild eyes, eyes that attempted to break a guarded soul and crossed arms.

No. This wasn’t who Larkey was. Or at least, this wasn’t what he had been. How all unnatural and confusing this was. He needed to get away, far away and give himself time to think. The man felt naked, trapped by all of these strange and compulsive ideas. It hit him that this was indeed his ship. He wasn’t the one in chains, even if it very much felt so. Colin walked out from below deck without looking back. 

James was slightly startled. He was left in with a bout of curiosity, coming to realize how fast this man’s emotions could change all at once. One minute he was at peace, the next he was enraged. He wondered to himself what he had said wrong, and what would now happen because of it? Perhaps it was his chance to die? Little to James’ understanding, the pirate was more frustrated, confused, than angry. Any anger he held was inwardly directed. Larkey had let him go beyond what had been planned in simply apologizing. He had been sucked into the conversation and was being tainted by thoughts that were so beyond normal to him. 

Larkey knew that any more time with this young man that reeked of "honor" and "freedom" would do him no good in a world such as his. Storming across the deck, he halted only at the edge to avoid crashing to his doom. The waves surged below, clawing at the wooden planks like vicious teeth coming to eat him. His breathing had sharpened as his fear intensified. No, he was stronger than this. He had to be. This was his home and he was in complete control. Those words, in reality, meant nothing. Right? So what the hell had he been thinking? First, it was James’ incessant question that forced his curiosity to wonder, then his adamant need to dominate all conversation, and now this? Freeing a slave? A captive? There was a pretty penny for that sharp mouth and round face. He was shocked by his own intentions and silenced his mind with every cell of his ability. Would it be enough? 

 

The night was a blur after that. He had found the man in him to face his crew and enter the hall. All was forgotten. All was let go. He let his sudden change of heart and growth of empathy slip away. Larkey entered with a shout, greeting what one may consider his closest thing to family. The energy of the room excited him. He yelled to the closest mate requesting the strongest thing available. He was almost immediately handed a mug of beer, more on the way. He drank it all at once. Then a second. Halfway through his seventh colors began to blend. It, unfortunately, took a while. He had built up his tolerance over time. He wasn’t a lightweight by any means. Larkey's mind faded. All memory and thoughts of freedom and dreams of moral quality were flowing away from him. The night faded away. Feelings? Physical and emotional? Gone. Everything was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, I am aware this took me more than 2 weeks to update. I'm sorry and I love you)

From then, things changed. It evolved slowly, taking on a new form that Colin understood only as acquaintanceship. Similar to Roger. And James was a strange creature. He seemed more comfortable, in a way. Not to say he by any means was happy in his position, only that he was less apathetic than he previously was. His tone was more comfortable and his liveliness had somewhat come back. Perhaps Larkey had hit a little closer to home than he had originally thought when he asked James if he was to a degree lonely? Not that it mattered to him. James was only a goal with a hard shell. It intrigued him nonetheless. How was he so able to let go all at once of everything he once possessed? It made him upset, in an unexplainable way. It just wasn't fun when there wasn't a fight. The lack of will to live was usually followed by whatever information he desired. His method now had to reverse if he was to get when he wanted.  
There was a part of him that felt something more. It was something strange, eating at him since they had begun their discussions. A part of Colin that wished to pursue these wiley conceptions that nagged at him almost incessantly. It wasn’t what he consciously wanted. But deep within him, in all truth, the pirate wanted the answer to the question James asked, no matter how peculiar it was. His immediate fear soon blossomed into pungent curiosity that tore into him more and more as weeks went on. The captive asked it of him, and Colin gave it his best. When trying to think of a way to squeeze information out of James, he was once again swindled into returning to the topic. Jade eyes looked at him intently as they asked, once again,  
“What is true? And what makes your morals true? I’ve been asking you for many days, yet you cannot say. In normal human conversation, one must be able to meet those half of the way. And as I said before, I won’t converse with an animal-”  
“On the contrary, I did give it some thought.”  
James was left almost to the point of perplexion. It hadn’t even been theoretical for the pirate to actually listen to him. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief.  
“Is that so?”  
“Indeed. Truth is all that can be professed under the will of the lord. Or at least, any lord that may be encountered by man.”  
“And yet, you work against his will, as if ignorant?”  
“Why would I care for otherwise?”  
James opened his mouth to speak as if to say something. He closed it again and licked his dry lips. The young man was humored by his hypocrisy. He believed there to be an ultimate law as for good and evil, yet ignored it. Laughed in the face of all that was holy. James could have said many, many things at that moment. He withheld.  
“Is that the correct answer?” Colin asked impatiently, his voice giving away hints of urgency.  
“Perhaps. I do not claim to know. And you do not know either, obviously.”  
This upset the pirate.  
“Then what the bloody hell did ye ask the question for?!”  
He threw a hand into the air and placed it onto his head. He clutched black strands of thick hair.  
“Because mate,”  
James' voice was condescending.  
“There is always a hope, however brief. Someday we may find out. And even though we do not, hope may guide us and show us what is good and warn us of what is not. Only give what is given and take the small repayment we deserve!”  
Colin was aggravated. It wasn’t doing anything for him, especially. So he shook his head and tried to abate the argument as quickly as possible. He failed, little to his surprise. In fact, this type of conversation continued on and covered the span of multiple days, for the segment here was only a fraction. These conversations were not all the same, but in a way, it was all connected. One question lead to another. Then another. It fascinated him, the things James had to say. Even if they were estranged in his eyes. Yes, they were connected and everything around him was connected in some strange way he couldn’t even voice, let alone put into words.  
Eventually, It occurred to Larkey that perhaps they weren’t quite the conversations he should be having. They most certainly weren’t ones that Nick would be pleased with. If he didn’t want to let these conversations away from his control and to stop the gain of some intrinsic personal aspect, it was best for him to slow down. Or more so, slow James down. His strange epiphanies needed to be extinguished.  
“Ye probably shouldn’t be taking yerself to such places, mate,”  
He had told the young man who had been talking about his fascination with a book he had been reading about something called “Cantenien Essex”. When asked about the topic and where James got all these strange books he was corrected and told that it was instead “Kantian Ethics.” The Captive had rolled his eyes, something new since Colin had cracked his rough exterior. Little did he know, this would become a staple of his personality.  
However intrigued, the pirate knew that not a single ounce more of his philosophy could be tolerated. So Larkey decided it would be best to stop him. It was too late for him to be entertaining the dreams of a young man who knew not the power of his words.  
He had awoken from a light sleep one morning before quietly heading to the brig. It was still very early and still partially dark. The pirate patted James shoulder to wake him.  
“Mornin’ te ye. Hope yer rest has been fit as of late.”  
James gave him a quizzical look, laced with lingering suspicion.  
“Alright, spit it out. What is it that you wish to retrieve from me at this early of an hour?”  
“Oh, not a thing. I had something that I wanted to tell ye about. It was somethin’ I’d been meanin’ te say.”  
James sighed in a boyish way.  
“I’m sure that’s absolutely true. And I have something of equal importance to share with you.”  
Colin tried to stop himself from asking- he really did.  
“Yeah, is that so? Do tell.”  
The word ‘failure’ crossed his mind and he mentally cursed himself.  
“I spent some time thinking about your question from yesterday.”  
“and?”  
Damn.  
“There really is no way for us to know. It just happens that you and I are creatures of a spirit that transcends all physical nature.”  
Stop.  
“Transcends, Now that is quite a complicated word for a person of your age.”  
James ignored his comment and continued,  
“This is evident simply in how we are naturally devotional. Humans have always felt strangely present, as if in the shadow of something much more intricate, and arduously understood. Why would such a large segment of-”  
“James, stop.”  
He did as told, awaiting an explanation.  
“Yer words are truly fascinating, all honesty. However, It is what I wished to explain upon my arrival. We can’t have these discussions any further”  
The young man crossed his arms, dissatisfied with this answer.  
“And what does this mean, exactly?”  
“I won’t indulge a day longer. You with your talk of truth and independence. I’ll hear none of it. I can’t afford such.”  
James let out a humorless laugh.  
“You speak as if my words have somehow affected you!”  
He shook his head.  
“All I have given is my view of true nature. The most basic understanding of life. It isn’t my fault I’m an intellectual. It just happens that you are somewhat as well.”  
And it was exactly that which caused this man grief, unrest. Perhaps it had not been intentional (although there was a good chance it was) but those questions had triggered further questions. And those, all the more. His thoughts had not been trampled over, violated and replaced with the ways of a soul dictator. They had been nurtured, pushed into something he understood very little of. He was gaining a certain will inside of himself. No, this boy was wrong. More wrong than ever before. At least, that’s what he stated repeatedly to help himself sleep at night. His thoughts were interrupted.  
“But you don’t care for such things. You are a pirate. Greedy and coarse. My words mean nothing to you. You’ve made that clear enough. As you said all you wish for is blood.”  
Colin found himself in disagreement, and argued,  
"And why the hell do I want that?"  
James was startled by the response. His brows furrowed and his head tilted back almost bewildered at what the man was saying.  
"All my life I've traveled the sea watched from afar but have never been able to touch it, experience it. I have been told how angry I'm supposed to feel since I was a boy but sometimes I just want it to stop. I want peace. Don't you ever just want to let go and move on from your life? So you can find that peace?"  
Colin let out a dramatically deep breath.  
James stopped and left them in a volumous silence.  
He thought for a moment before replying. His voice seemed much more broken this time, quiet and weak.  
"That's exactly what I've wanted all my life."  
“But you are a free man, raised of a free family.”  
“Oh, you foolish barbarian. As if the mere place of birth or living dictates freedom. You know not the true extent of my past.”  
Larkey turned and gave him a look of warning.  
It did nothing.  
“Do you not agree?” James spoke now with a defensive tone.  
“I need not know your childhood to know your freedom, of physical nature or otherwise. You are far too young to know the ways of the world.”  
James scoffed,  
“Spoke the pirate, only a handful of years, my senior.”  
“I’m twenty-five. You can’t be more than what? 18?”  
He cocked his head in genuine surprise.  
“I’m twenty. Twenty-one in the winter.”  
James looked slightly exasperated if not a touch disappointed that even in his broken state he still looked like a child.  
“Yes I see well, I’ve been mistaken for your age. What folly it is to be young forever. But that is of little importance, James. Tell me, what victimized your poor soul in such a way?”  
“I was not always an orphan. I had parents. My father. Yes, yes, everyone’s father is a scoundrel, a wretch, and a generally problematic figure. But you did not know my father.”  
Larkey amusedly listened and watched attentively. This was the first piece of truly personal life information he had managed to obtain from him.  
“He was violent, that man. So filled with rage that he could have split a mountain if set to it. And he hurt us, my mother and I. He would hit her, call her foul names. But me? Oh no, I was far more than resented.”  
His voice broke, causing him to stop for a moment.  
“He would come after me. And me alone. He claimed that I was not his son, I was a demon. Unearthly and needed to die. But just when he would find it within himself to end me, mum would calm him, plead with him. And one night, she decided that she no longer wished to watch my body battered and beaten. She took me away, sent me on a ship to-”  
He stopped himself just in time.  
“...a land far off.”  
He stopped for another brief moment.  
“She stayed to assure he never came for me. I never saw her again.”  
James' voice became quiet,  
"And yet, I’ve dreamt of her every night that I dream. Never the same dream, and sometimes I don't dream at all. But she's always there, pleading in my mind. She cries out for my aid, day after cold, and brutal day. Her voice rings true and real as yours does at this very moment."  
The pirate knew not what to say for he had not the words to express. Such feelings of sadness were not within his immediate realm of understanding. He was flooded by anger and that was all he had really known for quite a long time. But if there was one thing that he was able to empathize with, it was the longing for an end to the ache within one’s heart.  
“To be honest, I really didn’t leave to work for Edward. I wanted to find her- save her if she still walks the earth.”  
And he felt that burning within his lungs again. It was the same one Colin had felt the night he had awaken James screaming in his sleep. It was frustration he knew not how to control. It was so confusing and so foreign. Colin replied with the first thing that came to mind."I-I understand.” They both wanted peace. He wanted to give it to him. He could give it to him. Or maybe he couldn’t. Perhaps even if he did set the young man free, it would still be a matter of will and how much James was willing to give. How far would he help him run?  
Now you may wonder, why had Colin never considered escape before? Perhaps he was just as spineless as James suspected. Perhaps he never thought about it until that moment. Or maybe it was a combination of the two? Maybe James had opened a window for him from his past life that offered solace to his weary mind? Little to his understanding, this thought would become borderline obsessive in the coming weeks. He was tempted to say a simple goodbye at this point and leave the boy to his own devices. Colin himself had a lot to digest as far as their conversation and he was uncomfortable.  
But in a good way, almost. It was like waking up from a deep sleep. The yearn to fall back into unconsciousness, like the pull of a soft voice. But the understanding of those in the real world forced him to move his legs and place bare feet on the cool floorboards. It was chill in the morning and it made him wish for the warmth of a thick blanket. It beckoned to him. But he could not. He had a life beyond that state of comfort. The pirate had things to do and places to be. He had a whole world to go after. So he ignored the discomfort. He stayed in the brig and moved forward.  
“Little to be done for it now, I suppose. I knew the risk in chasing a dream. In fact, I wanted to go to travel to the colonies- er- America to study its wildlife. I’ve read so much about it but, as you know books can only take you so far… Dear God, I’m rambling aren’t I?”  
James licked dry lips and searched Colin’s eyes, checking for signs of annoyance.  
“Nye, I myself have been to the new world. Didn’t much care for the wildlife. Bears as tall as two men!”  
James looked skeptical,  
“I mean it. Saw it with my own eyes.”  
“Mhm. I love the sciences, you see. And as a man of science, I must say that the probability of that is not significant. And if there are, perhaps I’ll stick to my books. I brought a few of my favorites.”  
“Did they make it on the ship, by change?”  
James shrugged. He watched curiously as Colin stood and walked into the back room of the cellar. There, he dug through a pile of supplies and came upon a couple bags attained by the crew. He held one up for James to see. He shook his head. A box. He shook his head again. Another bag, smaller this time. He nodded, the sides of his mouth curling upward slightly. Colin tossed the bag to the floor and James dug through it. All of his books, right where he had left them.  
A certain warm feeling grew in the pit of the young man’s stomach. It was unsettling and uncomfortable. But it was there. He had noticed it before and he didn’t like it. Strange and somewhat embarrassing. He was simply grateful to Colin and that was all. Nothing more. James suddenly felt very naked, as if the action of kindness were a shot to the heart and one-up on their social interaction. It was too much, almost. He had always been able to return the actions of goodness. What now? Was this act truly out of kindness? He felt a warmth growing on his cheeks.  
“I’m gonna make a guess and say it gets a little boring down here.”  
The young man avoided eye contact. Colin wondered why.  
“Yes. Boring… and very cold.”  
He nodded taking note of James’ comment.  
“Well, if ye don’t tell me where yer from it won’t be for much longer.”  
The captive tilted his head. Curious.  
“The Captain isn’t pleased. You’ve made things rather difficult for me.”  
He leaned against a support beam,  
“My job is to figure where this Beth of yours is so we can make some arrangements. If I don’t figure how to get ye ‘ome it’s straight to St. Malo with ye. Just do me a favor,”  
They met eyes. It suddenly was very quiet.  
“Think about it. Ye have a family waiting for ye, no?”  
James sunk in on himself. He was very quiet as he looked away, sinking into thought. Colin didn’t like it, the way he looked. His liveliness after that became broken and forced. He waited for him to speak. A response. A rejection. Anything. Nothing came. He decided that was enough and it was time to depart. After bidding the young man farewell, he exited the brig with a hollow heart. He had come very close to the boy explaining where he had come from. Perhaps the day after or the day after next? He walked with a coolness to his step that only the captain noticed. After all, the only one on the ship with a brain was he.  
It was a long while before the hatch opened again. James looked with curious eyes, hoping it was someone with food. And it was. Skatter red stepped in, sending him a glare as he set the tray in front of him and slammed the door as he departed. Something was different this time, however. On the tray was a cup of grimy water- nothing unusual, a stale handful of crackers- also nothing new- and this time something else. It was a lovely green color that stood out against the dullness of the room that surrounded him. Next to the crackers, sat a very small, green apple. In disbelief, he stared at it in shocked amazement. He hadn't had a single bite of fruit in what felt like years. Decades. It was a foreign yet welcome sight to his malnourished eyes.  
He reached for the apple with a shaky hand. His grip was almost too weak but he managed to bring it to his mouth. Crunch. He took a weak bite. The mixture of sweet and primarily sour flavor triggered his depraved taste buds. He reminded himself that if he didn't die beforehand, he would thank the pirate for his troubles. He scooted forward to pull the plate closer to him and noticed something underneath this wooden plate, elevating it slightly. James picked up the plate and set it aside. It was a blanket.  
“Yes. Boring…and very cold.”  
Confusion. Deeply seeded confusion like nothing he had experienced thus far. For the first time since he arrived, his eyes blurred with tears. He shook them away and rubbed these eyes as if it could dispel all of his feelings that were now attacking him at full force. That same feeling from before had crawled back into his stomach. The one in which he felt an unwelcome warmth that he could not describe. Looking back, he could see now that this was not the first time he had experienced this. It had passed him from time to time. When he observed the sharp face of the pirate or his bare, muscled chest. When he spoke in his thick accent softly or in that caring way, so tonal and unfair. He didn’t understand it. And he was somewhat afraid to. So he chose to ignore it. He stood, taking a corner of the thin blanket with him. He pulled it apart, spreading it so that he could wrap it around himself. And lord, saying it was marvelous was an understatement. His body’s warmth became held within this small layer he had been given. But why? Why him?  
Then he was hit with the realization. He was a pirate. And he had given him something. And there was no way this could simply be a gift. He wanted something. James knew he would expect something in return. All of their actions socially as of yet had been a consistent trade. They swapped stories, understandings of life and moral. He had refused to let him take anything without getting something in return. But his? His heart pulsed. He had nothing to give. His whole life had been stripped from him. What could he possibly want? It wasn’t as if he truly cared if James gave him the location of his family. He didn’t care if he suffered through the cold of the night. All he had to give now was his... body. Colin, he would never.. But would he? No self-respecting man- the thought was ended. This man was a pirate. What esteem can one gain from such a life of destruction and hatred? He had to set aside these thoughts, the hope in his heart that if he pushed just enough, the seeds he had planted would grow.  
James had heard his stories of violence. His thoughts led him back to the man’s story of the eye. Thick, red liquid dripping from cuts of flesh. The flag that fluttered in the breeze above the blazing flames. The dark eyes of a pirate that stood over him with an evil heart. It hadn’t been Colin that had picked him up and stolen him away. But somehow, in a strange way it was. Even if it hadn’t been Larkey’s own flesh, it was just as bad as if it were, He obviously would take whatever he wanted. If it had been him aboard the ship that night would he still be there? Would he be free? No, not a chance. Of course, he would take anything he desired.  
Even if what he wanted wasn’t his to take.


	7. Chapter 6

Larkey yanked the serrated knife out of the body below him. A firm foot attached to a strong leg was rested on the mid-sternum of the man’s torso and the life had drained from the eyes. The pirate was unable to see these eyes as they had closed not long before his violence began. The soft lids had been held wide and scared as horror overcame him and quickened his pulse. Once he had been thrown to the ground, they had clenched shut. As if it would protect him.  
They did not make him immune to the atrocities that came after. And he died.  
And Colin had watched from above. A careless god. He had seen the body slow it’s writhing and become cold. Its muscles lost their strength and finally decontracted. He looked back up at his face. It was smooth and sculpted with soft features. Tan skin stretched over cheekbones and around the bridge of a broken nose. He had been smacked around a little before, Larkey supposed. But it was the flurry of freckles that painted his face like a sprinkling of salt. Dark little imperfections that suddenly brought him to memory from not long ago.   
In fact, it had probably only been a handful of days post. Colin had sat down next to James and looked him in the eye while he told him something he thought very important about the real world, the harshness of it all. He had only done that a small number of times during deep and intriguing conversation. But being in the position had given him a fair view of that freckled face. They weren’t as spread out as the man he had just killed. They only spread his nose and cheeks.   
James had spoken of something he read in a book. Before he had been captured.   
“I have a final question to ask you before I cease my inquisition,”  
Colin in glanced at him curiously. He had asked him so many things he had never been asked before. At first, it was difficult. He felt attacked and coiled in on himself when approached. He had refused to listen to a thing he had said regarding his thoughts. And James hadn’t cared. He persisted because it was all he knew. It was all he had left now.   
"What do you believe about love?"  
Frustration had struck him once more. What even was that supposed to mean? Love was enjoyment and desire for that joy. It was an urge that filled a person when they found something they needed or desired. What more? He gave that as his explanation. James was not impressed. But he listened.   
"What more did ye expect?"  
"It isn't about what I expected but what I know to be. It is the endearment held in your heart for those you care for. A promise that..."  
James had stopped for a moment.  
"Reconsidering your question, I don't know what I expected. Why would a pirate know anything of love?"  
This brought up a certain unsettling feeling within himself. He had made it sound wonderful, love. It made him feel robbed. He was left wondering how James could have misread his morality. As if something had changed. That was when it had hit him that perhaps he indeed had experienced some sort of change. However small. If only he were with James now so that he might ask him in a concealed way.  
Colin wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Blood and sweat were dying slowly on his fingertips. He found it unsettling, the way hope had seeded and taken sprout within him. It had forced him to evaluate his own surroundings and to hold himself to something he hadn't had to before. James had set a bar that he had played along with and now fell at its whim. Because there were rules now. And there was someone who expected those rules to be held. There was a memory that he tried but could not recapture from long ago, anchored to a lingering feeling. A needy desire to appease the weight in his gut and the boy in the ship hull. The change had been so subtle and quiet. He hadn't noticed it at all until it was too late and looking into the eyes of James caused an aching in his heart. It was unfair.   
God, how it was unfair. He hadn't asked for this. Larkey hadn't asked for his way of life to be torn apart, piece by piece. But it made so much sense. It felt so right, the way he was becoming. His head told him no. His rejuvenating heart told him yes. So when the ache became too strong, he stopped. He stood from the body as that unearthly frustration overcame him again and hit him like a slap to the face. It wasn’t what he wanted but it was all he knew, to create chaos.   
He holstered his knife and turned away, gut-wrenching. Sick to his stomach. What had this erratic child done to him? 

 

Every sound that assaulted him was torture. The sound of footsteps above. Blood ran cold. The scuttle of a rat between the walls. Soft palms turned clammy. Voices from afar. He swore at one point he had heard his name.  
His heart pulsed.   
The fear of the quartermaster’s return was growing. It bloated from a slight worry in the back of his mind to a sheer certainty that Colin wanted his body for purposes that were most certainly malevolent. He was playing with his emotions. The paranoia developed and flourished from his sensory depraved mind. It filled all of these empty gaps in his story and caused him a graven uncertainty. How desperate he was to stay as far away from the pirate- or any pirate- than ever before. The thought of those hands, rough and covered in blood, malicious and hostile… It plagued him. It dug up memories.   
James was haunted by memories and was certain there were more he hid from himself, for his own sake. Others: ever-present. The ones of his days on the streets when he was a small boy, barely able to even wipe his own nose, let alone make his own living. Drunk men chasing him through dark alleyways and sober men with irrevocably dark intentions, were all typical occurrences. He had never been caught, as his luck would have it. Never had anyone managed to lay a hand on him as of yet. Perhaps this was his luck finally getting back at him after all of those years of safety it bestowed upon him. Perhaps he was now paying for his being found by Beth that frosty November night. After all, who else had such good fortune? Hundreds of children wandered the streets at night, orphaned by sickness and famine. Being caught meant little chance of escape.  
He had stumbled upon a girl once, captured by a dark figure with disgusting hands and a putrid heart. James had heard her cries for help from the main road, followed by a hush and a threat concerning death, mutilation, and obscene violation. He had looked down that dim corridor to see her mouth held by a large hand. The matching appendage had been working up her ragged dress. He felt up her thin legs, lusty breaths going in and out.  
He was unable to continue watching past this. There was nothing he could do. Could he knock on the closet door? No, he wouldn't be answered. Find Inspector Lewis, his one ally somewhere off down past the main square? No, it would take too long. By the time they arrived, it would be too late. Time had slowed.  
Looking back, James didn't even know what captivated him to make the decision. But what he did know, was that there would be no turning a blind eye. He was more than that. One day, he would be a man, which was more than his father had ever been. But for now, he had to prove that to himself. He looked to the ground. A brick next to the wall that had broken in half. He reached down and grasped it with a shaky hand. With all of his might he had thrown the object, shouting "Hey!!" The man turned and watched as the brick landed roughly a yard away from him.  
"I'm gonna go get the night watch!"  
The man snarled,  
"Why you little shit faced-!"  
He dropped the young girl and had turned towards James. His aim was direct.   
The man was tall and broad, with a barrel chest. James ran. He heard heavy breathing and hard steps on cobblestone. He felt his poor lungs suck in and out as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The cold air stung his face. He looked behind and called out. She needed her to know that there was a chance.  
"RUN!!!"  
He screamed at the top of his lungs. And she did.   
She bolted down the alley down the road. She disappeared around the east corner, never to be seen again. Meanwhile, the man chased after him with surprising speed. James turned the corner and made it to the main street. He was so close to his destination. The square was less than a block away. His adrenaline blocked out the sharp pains in his chest as the dry air exhausted his small body. Just as he was about to turn the corner, a rough hand grabbed his thin arm. Fate seemed not in his favor. He struggled in the not yet firm grip and managed to struggle away a final time.  
His mother had left him to reduce his pain. Little did she know, she had surrendered him to danger far worse than the hand of his father and every length that he dare cross.  
On the steps of a house around that very corner, sat a member of the police force. Watchman Lewis had found very little to do this evening. In his boredom, he found himself dozing off. Until he heard screaming, that is. And it wasn't just any yelling, it was the sound of someone he knew. It was the little boy who he often found trying to sell flowers to the old women near many of the tailors and jewelers. James? He looked around, suddenly alert. He heard his name called by a small voice in a big world out to get him and every inch of his being.  
"LEWIS!!!"  
He bolted upright. The sound of footsteps came up on his left. He began walking forward.  
"James?!" He called out.  
And just as he was about to turn the corner, he was crashed into by a small figure of a little over 4 feet. Big green eyes looked up at him with blurred vision.  
"Boy, what are you doing out here in the night? It's late. Ye need to be home. Your mum must be worried sick."  
The sound of breathing suddenly got closer. A taller figure approached him, haunched and stumbling over his intoxication,  
"There you are mah boy!" he called out, falsified familiarity,  
"Isn't it time we get back? Come on home now."  
Lewis looked back down at James. His eyes pleaded with a look of warning.  
"No, I don’t think so."  
Lewis looked back at the man.  
"Get going before this has to get messy. I don't want trouble. Leave him be."  
The stranger growled.  
"Ye think you can just take a man's son?"  
James cut in.  
"My father's gone!"  
Lewis placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled James closer,  
"Why don't we just make a compromise. He'll stay with me at the station until mornin'. You can bring by his birth registry and bring him home. If ye aren't in by noon, he gets to leave."  
He huffed in frustration. Shoving grimy hands in deep pockets, he glared before wandering off.  
Lewis looked back again at the boy.  
"James? Are ye alright?"  
He nodded in response.  
"Come'er. Sit."  
He pulled him over to the steps and sat him down.  
"Tell me what happened to ye."  
James was hesitant.  
"I found him in an alley with a young g-girl. He was bout to shag 'er and I got his attention so she could get away..."  
Lewis now possessed a look of utter loss. His pity for the boy never wavered,  
"Where are yer parents?"  
There was a silence.  
"James. Tell me please."  
"Ye can't take me away. Ye can't let them bring me to a home. The other boys, they need me to look out for them."  
"So yer an orphan?"  
James' eyes widened. He prickled with fear.  
"No. I'm waiting for my mum. She brought me here when my da got really angry. She said she'd be back when he was better. She's comin' for me."  
He stood up and dusted off his pants.  
"What if she doesn't? What if something happened to her?"  
The boy was silent.  
"Then I'll find a new mum. And besides. I have the lads to take care of me...”  
The memory was one ingrained into his mind.  
What could have- what would have happened had he not been saved by Lewis? The reality of the situation hadn't sunk in until later in his life. His dreams since then had been haunted by the possible outcome. If his nightmare were to become true… What would be left to be afraid of? 

What would be left to save?

He didn’t want to think about it. Besides that, his stomach turned and head spun in confusion at the simple recollection of his eyes. He wanted to trust them. James wanted to allow himself to be cared for. He wanted the ability to speak with Colin without having to remind himself that he wasn't to be trusted. That was when James realized he had been referring to the pirate by his true name. The one given to him by human beings. Almost as if he were a human. But he was, wasn't he? Colin had shown him a shadow of humanity that resided somewhere deep down. However small, he could tell something was there. But every time he thought the name, thought about the man to any degree, his heart clenched. Was that something enough to protect him from selfish desires? Would his upbringing overcome him like it had so many times now?   
He still didn’t want to think about it. So he slept and waited until the next day. When no one came, the next. The serving boy would be in soon, he thought to himself as he woke to the morning. Light flooded from above through thin cracks. The sound of men laughing, fighting, and stepping filled the deck above as it always did. The light grew around him until he could see around the cellar around him once more. It normally would have been too dark to be comprehended by the human eye, but so much time had passed that his eyes were acclimated. Perhaps not vivid color, but he could make out shapes and depth at the very least. Very soon now.  
When the door was flung open, he was met with the characteristically bald child. The tray was given to him once again. Murky water, two crackers, and another favor. A fair chunk of jerky was sat on top of the crackers. He nibbled on his protein in silence. Although bland, slow starvation does cruel things to the mind. It was as if the dried meat were the most desirable delicacy on the earth. There was no waste. Not a crumb was spared. He knew he was slowly dying.   
Colin had told him earlier of their destination to Saint Malo. There was no way he would make it to France with all of the apparent stops between. Perhaps just in time, as he passed out and slowly slipped away from dehydration. His ribs had begun to show very clearly and his fingers were now very thin. The child had left now and James was only hanging on to see what the strange pirate had for him today. His stories had given him a sense of... Hope. They reminded him dearly of the stories Beth would read to him as she sat him next to the fire and taught him to read English. His Gaelic tongue was what he had spoken from birth forward, but English soon earned a solid place in his heart. It was spoken primarily by the people he cared for so he was forced to compromise. And now, his Irish was broken, a mess of what he could recall.  
James liked to think of the days in the garden with his den mother. She had clothed him, fed him, and given him a place to sleep. Despite how easily she could have taken advantage of him, she refused at all times. He remembered when he first thought to ask why she hadn't given him up as of yet. She simply smiled down at him with gentle blue orbs. She ruffled the hair upon the back of his head.  
"You dolt, what kind of question is that?"  
He smiled back at her.  
"I just want to know why... You've been so kind to me."  
Beth continued to stir the pot of stew as she answered his question.  
"Well, darling, me and Edward had tried to have a baby for many months. I was unable to become of the child. We were torn and Edward's parents demanded that he find a new wife. I cried for many hours that night. I prayed to the Lord. 'Father, grant me with your will a child to care for. I wish for nothing more in this life if you give me but this wish.' I needed some air so I went out for a walk. And there you were, my gift from God."  
She ran her free hand through his hair, which at the time had been cut short.  
"You were so cold, and so in need. You may have thought you needed me, but what you don't quite understand is that I needed you as well. You were oh so clearly my answer from the Lord. You were my wish for this life."  
He had smiled up at her with bright adoring eyes. She knelt down and kissed his forehead.  
Though he wished to re-live them forever, James was suddenly awoken from his wonderful memories. The latch door was opened slowly and footsteps dropped over the creaking stairs. He looked up to see if death had come for his soul. No. It was simply Colin. Close but not quite. James' lungs felt tight and he pretended to sleep. He laid very still, and very quiet. He wanted to avoid confrontation as long as possible. There wasn't much else he could do. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He didn't stand a chance if Larkey decided to take advantage of him. Nothing happened for a moment. Had he left?   
A muscular body knelt next to him and patted his arm.   
"Ey, lad?  
Silence.  
"I wanted to tell ye somethin’.”  
James' shoulders tensed as he closed in on himself.   
"Come on now, James. What’s wrong with ye? I just want te ‘ave a chat."  
Colin spoke softly in that voice that sent shivers down James' spine. It was a voice that was unfair. Too kind to be real. Compelling in every way. When the younger man finally responded his voice was shallow, almost inaudible.   
"Why? So you can retract what you want from me and leave me to die? Rot alone?"  
James couldn't see the pirate's face. However, if he were able, he would have watched a face warp from shock to guilt to anger. Pureblood anger. Concentrated and cold. Had would have seen those dark eyes become somehow darker, had he experienced them brim with self malice maybe things would have been different. But he did not. Colin didn’t know what had made him suddenly so cold. It was as if all his challenges since James arrival had returned and all of his work had never occurred. It angered him in a way that wasn’t of the same nature as was expected. It was acrimony no longer directed at others but toward himself. And It hurt.   
Colin stood,  
“Lad, would ye just listen to meh?”  
Nothing.   
He reached out to grab him by the arm and James flinched away out of habit. It was unconscious. Unfortunately, the pirate didn’t know that and it made him feel even worse than before. Colin pushed himself forward anyway and took hold of James' wrists. He pulled him up so that he was standing alongside. The young man made a weak attempt at pulling away. He writhed with the little energy that flooded him. It was vain.   
“Let go!”  
He demanded brokenly. Colin shook his head.  
“Listen to me, James. Just this once.”   
Eventually, James ceased his moving. He was still and empty. The false hope had weighed him down. Its fabrication had ripped the teeth out of his fight.   
“Look... I can’t change where what happened to ye. I can’t change where ye are but I can help ye get away. I’ve been trying to tell ye this since the start. But yer so stubborn. I don’t want this for ye. So please,”  
He gripped the boy’s wrists tighter. Colin forced James to face him straight on  
“Let me help you. Trust me, if only for a day and I will make it go away. All of it. I promise and not a soul will touch ye again.”  
Colin let go of the thin bone covered in weak, soft flesh. He ran a hand through dark hair and put the other on his waist. When he finally looked down James was looking up petrified, bitter. He found the moxy to stitch thoughts together into words.  
“Colin...”  
Pause.  
“I don’t think you understand. I cannot.”  
“I’m sorry, James… I know I’m a terrible excuse of a person but still. I’m givin’ it my best shot, you’ve gotta believe me.” But that was not it. His eyes would be filled with something angrier if that were the case. James had since returned his state from an entire month previous when all emotion was cut from his features. There was something else.   
"It is simply that I am painfully aware of what is to come. Yer a horrid creature, a demon dressed in disguise to lure me in and offer me a deal too good to be true. Pirates don’t give without expecting payment, let alone continue delivering it."  
Colin raised a confused eyebrow and his frustration pooled. It was replaced with something different, a kind of curiosity. He seemed to be thinking. When he was unable to answer the question eating at him, he asked it outwardly.  
"And what kind of payment did you have in mind? You haven't a thing to give other than your pleasant company." He gave James a weak smirk.  
The boy gave him little sign of tolerance.  
"God, you're facetious."  
He let out a soft laugh, almost a chuckle.  
"I suppose ye aren't wrong."  
James sighed.  
"You're a pirate. I'm fairly certain if you wish, you'll take whatever you really want from me… respect for one’s body simply isn't in your blood. It is simply all a beast desires no? Eternal violation? You’ve taken everything else, so why not take my body and pride along with it. I am far too weak to stop you."  
The pirate gave it a thought. His brows furrowed as he looked quizzically. What else could he possibly want? Why not take my body? Then it hit him. He thought Larkey wanted a fresh person to fulfill his own sick desires. James thought he was going to rape him. Colin's eyes widened as he almost dropped the lantern he had been holding. He had trouble speaking  
"..What..?"  
The pirate asked more to himself than the one beside him. James gave him a defeated look, letting him know he had accepted his fate worse than death. The pirate’s steely grip had released and he stepped back. James was left to sink to the floor.  
"James no I- know I would never- I don't even like- well. It's not that I don't- I mean.. Gahh.."  
Colin shook his head, running a hand over his face and through his messy locks. He made a face of frustration at the many failed attempts. He wished desperately to explain his thoughts but simply nothing came that was worth saying. At this point, a reddish tint had covered his face. He was embarrassed.  
"Listen to me very carefully, for I am an impatient man. I will only state this aloud once. I am not the same person from whence you arrived. I change as these days pass, yes, and you force yourself ignorant of it. You deny my growth of empathy despite how I continue to swallow my pride and acknowledge it.”  
He kneeled to meet the young man’s eyes.  
“I would not harm you, James. Besides, not a cell of my being lusts after sodomy."  
James gave him another look of frustration and scoffed, fighting the urge come closer and press into him. That voice was like honey to his ears and he was so close, he imagined the body was warm, warmer than anything he’d touched in months. The hands that had gripped him were proof. He wanted to give in to these lovely words and dangerous promises. God, he wanted to trust him blindly. But he stayed strong one last time. James retorted.  
"Never wanted to degrade another man... You nailed a man to your mast, forced him to eat pieces of his own face, and sliced him open before hanging him from the starport by his entrails.."  
Colin grimaced, now aware of his own contradiction. He held up a hand fraying innocence.   
"I wasn't there for whatever it was ye saw. I had passed out before we even boarded yer ship. And It isn’t a part of me any longer. I wish to help you now let me do so."  
James didn’t seem impressed or convinced.   
"I think I understand in a way... But I don't think we are alike at all. I want to be free. I want my family. I want love. All you want is your next fix of violence and pain. Power."  
Colin shook his head.  
“Perhaps two months ago, I wouldn’t disagree. I suppose… I see it differently now. We are more alike than I think at this time than ever in all our lives. I used to want to make Reach proud of me when I was a younger man. But-”  
He spoke again, softer now,  
“I don’t know what I want anymore…”  
This is where James attitude changed. He was overcome with a sense of pity. Colin wanted to be free and it was becoming more and more evident to James that if he pushed only a while longer, he would not only save himself but save Colin. The pirate was fighting what had become his nature and James could see it in his eyes. He found himself believing that he could find hope.   
“I have a feeling you do. Somewhere inside. Sometimes those are the wishes hardest to accept. And your soul is lacking. I can’t imagine the denial you’ve been in.”   
Colin had long since let go of taking James bluntness seriously. However frank, it was very likely true. He tried to comprehend it.  
“I don’t think I understand.”  
James closed his eyes leaning back against the wall,   
“You will. I may not live long enough to see it but…”  
He stopped for a moment of thought.  
“You must always be certain that life is leading you towards all you are looking for. And all you are not.”  
“You should listen to yer own advice.”  
James cracked a broken smile.  
“You’re a lot smarter than you look, Colin.” 

The man stayed in his hammock for a lot of that following night. The silence let his mind at ease. Lain out, he thought of those words spoken by James. He thought about how someone could seemingly understand him in such a way. How could someone see right through him so thoroughly and entirely? It sent him mad how pleasant he felt when merely conversing with him. It sent him even madder still how upset he felt amidst the young man’s pain. He continued to over analyze those feelings. He thought of them deeply. Deeply enough that he didn’t even notice when he had fallen into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
